A Life Exhausted

garage sale

DISCLAIMER:  I am complete toast.  Burnt toast, in fact.  My eye lids are propped open with toothpicks.  I cried twice before noon. And I am having a garage sale simply because I can sit on my blessed assurance and not feel torn that I should be doing something else.

(That in and of itself is SERIOUS, y’all.)

So with that in mind, please know you may read the first sentence, say “bless her heart” and move the hoot on.

BUT if you want to hear my thoughts on a life exhausted, proceed with caution and abundant grace…

I have been here before in different shapes, forms and sizes.  Each time, I find myself surprised at how zonked a gal can be.  But each time I return, I also find myself in a place of crazy clarity.

My guess is that of enough of “Sara” has been stripped away that Jesus is like, “Sister, FINALLY! Now we can get real. So readjust those toothpicks and let’s get to getting.”

And all I can do offer a slightly sleepy, “Mmmmmkay….”

But y’all, that’s why I LOVE Him.

Because Jesus gets me in my joint-flaring, muscle-aching, left-side drooping, on-too-much-medication, pregnant state.  He gets me in the heart of my battle fatigue.  He gets me when I cannot even put a coherent sentence together.

He just so beautifully gets me.

So much so, that He has come to me every day this week and poured this into my heart,

“Sara, what do you care about when the life is drained out of you?”

And the answer is simple (but you best believe not trite.)  It comes from a place of searing physical pain, failure upon failure and an ache to be normal.  Just as it also comes from a complete and utter brokenness where I cannot help but say, “You, Jesus. Just. You.”

Because it is in this place where I am so imperceptibly small that He is all that is left and the want of my heart becomes so remarkably altered and I begin to want to love as Jesus loves. I want to care as Jesus cares.  I want to fight as Jesus fights. I want every intimate piece of Him.

I want to pray over and over and over again for all who hold my heart and hurt.

I want to use my words to lift up rather than tear down.

I want to fight for the joy of today.

I want to kiss and hug and snuggle little hands and feet and noses.

I want to cheer on a singing Little Red Hen and eat pink ice cream with Sophie and get my nails painted by a charming, almost 3rd-grader.

I want to live unencumbered by stuff.

I want to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.

I want to be cradled by my Jesus.

I want to live in the freedom of what I do not want now…

To waste my energy on criticism of others when I have a log sticking out of this eye of mine.  To nit-pick over curriculum or lament over politics or use hate over love.  To live in anger or frustration or petty entitlement.

I do not.

I do not want the best of this world.

I want the least of it.

I want to crave and love and champion for the least.

Just as I want to remember the clarity of this moment.

Where people matter because they matter to Jesus.  Where love rules and anger retreats.  Where justice sings and triviality is left behind.

And where my whole self swims so deeply in the remembrance of a life exhausted that it bleeds to live a life well-spent.

So even if it means I must come to this place again, Jesus?

Bring me here, sit me down and do what You need to do in a broken me.

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