Life can surprise you.
Knock-you-over, surprise you.
One minute you dread something, the next minute you crave it.
My craving of late?
30 minutes of solitude in a stinky, junk-laden mini-van.
There I sit.
Amid the testament to a crazy life.
Leaves. Candy wrappers. Socks.
And the blessed funk that comes with all of it.
Calling it my respite, my hiding place, my high tower.
For in those 30 minutes…
Before good news or bad news or random news…
Before therapy or tests or tears or triumph…
I can simply be.
Talking with, singing to and crying out to my Jesus.
Holding on to Him so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Pouring out all of my broken and scattered and whackadoodle.
Laying my hurt, my fear, my uncertainty at His feet.
In a stinky, junk-laden mini-van.
An unlikely place for such a sacred communion.
Made complete somehow by the crushed-in Goldfish and rancid sippy cups.
Made beautiful by its simplicity, the quiet ease of relationship.
Made hallowed with words meant for such a precious time.
Where her voice so beautifully sings,
“I can be scattered…”
“I can be broken…”
“I can be shattered…”
I can be everything I am meant to be.
Because He is with me.
And holding it all together for me.
Yes, I can be scattered!!!! I can get lost!!!! I can be confused!!!!
I can lose my ever loving mind.
And He will always find me.
In a sacred place where only He can go and a broken world can never touch.
He. Will. Find. Me.
Taking what I dread and turning it into something sacred, something lovely.
Catching me by surprise.
And knocking me over the head.
Every beautiful time.