Tonight, I had a pre- bedtime talk with my oldest sons. And one was pouring out a frustrated heart. He was feeling the pressure of our days and busyness. Busyness can eat away at the beautiful and the good. There is a hecticness at odds with strong, soul-full purposed days. We are feeling some of that and I have been hard pressed to find ways to keep our center and priorities straight at times. In fact, I would say, we haven’t been doing too well with that. And it is here that I drink from the cup of grace like a desperate man (woman). And I throw myself wholeheartedly upon the Lord in trust as I have seen Him make a way again and again when I cannot see the way (and O! that is hard for me but O! His amazing faithfulness!!).
But I digress (a bit)… for some of the pent up frustration was coming from a lack of time to write for this particular child. A lack of time to sit and ponder… he told me he had taken to writing in composition books that he could carry with him wherever he was as it can be so challenging to find the time to sit at a computer…but even that routine was being pushed out with a sense of pressure and busyness… not to mention that he was just feeling that he didn’t have much time with the full credit load he is carrying plus activities. He is right. He is at his busiest right now and there isn’t much time. He is feeling it. He can’t hear the writing voice inside of him. There is too much noise.
I looked at that child. And I said(something along these lines)- in the face of his frustration- and yes, fear. Fear for where was that inner place so much a part of him- so muffled now in noise? I said- “To write you need time, and space, and quiet. Time to stretch out and think and listen. And it is natural and normal that you do not have that right now. Wait until after this season and the words will come again. Just because you are busy and cannot hear the stories, doesn’t mean that the gift is not in you. The gift is in you.” And as the words left my mouth, I startled. And inside I felt a deep inner witness, for I knew in my heart, I was also speaking to myself. I was speaking to myself. And the grace I offered my child, is the grace offered to me.
And of course, my mind went a hundred directions on how could we possibly better organize time to give a routine that would enable him to write. But I didn’t offer any of that this night. I didn’t offer a solution to the problem or figure out a way to make it work. I just affirmed. The gift is still within him and that hasn’t changed because the circumstances of his life are pressing in a different way and we are just figuring out how to get through and stay afloat. No. The gift is his forever because it is a part of who he is.
English Standard Version (ESV)
For the gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable.
So, I now take a little time to capture that moment to my own heart. Try to feel the full weight of its impact. And listen. To write…is to truly live. For me. So I do.