World Heavy Weight Worrier Of All Time

I think I may be slipping a little in the worry department.  Me.  The undisputed, triple crown worry wart of all time, of all the world.. or at least, my little corner of it. The "it" girl of "I'll take that problem and raise you an ulcer and a few more gray hairs."  No one came close to me, except for maybe my mother, (from whom all worry flows, bless her.).

This revelation became clear to me last night, and is all I can think about this morning.  A well-meaning someone was describing the "stress" I was under, and all I could think was that she'd better lift the lid and take a nice long look.  Could it be...praise You Lord... I, Karen... am no longer "under" anything... Except Your forgiveness, and grace. And when I allow it inside... Your peace.   Because You've given me all of this, and made it my choice.  I get to choose.  Thank You, sweet Lord, and might I mention that if You have counted the times I  made the choice to crawl under the worry cellar and turn the latch, I am thankful there are things only You know, and have mercifully kept from my knowing.  I'm thinking it must be a little bit funny, watching me under there, whining like a five year old. Look at me, under here. Pull me out. Get this thing off me! My back hurts. I'm on my pitiful little knees down here, and You just do not understand.  

This miraculous thing must have happened slowly, over time. I'm much too big of a coward to pray for patience, and I'm not certain I saw my worry as anything to be prayed away. Lord, deliver me from...Karen. She's really getting in the way of herself here, and all that You have made her and called her to be.

Caution. Maybe (definitely) He's not quite finished with me yet in this department.  I actually WORRIED about posting this. Something just may come up in the next 12 minutes that will rock my world, shaking it's foundation, absolutely throwing me into the granddaddy of all Houston we have a problem epic proportion crises of all time, ever known, or experienced by man.  And I will need to talk about it all... Lay it all out on the table, like the contents of my purse.  I never know what's in there, either, or how it got there, or why I'm carrying it all around with me.  Not a prayer request, mind you...which is precious in His sight.  No. An all you can eat, unlimited visits, open all night, Worry Buffet.  And I am absolutely pigging out.

I'm so thankful He has a sense of humor. And patience... even though I won't be asking for any of that today, forgive me Lord:) I am thankful that at least, for today...this hour.. I am on the other side of the cellar door... And it's double locked...from the outside.
Cross my heart.

"Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all. he has done. Then you will experience God's peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." ~ Philippians 4:6-7

Master Key

My words are locked up tight this morning. Waiting for the touch of the Master, Who holds the key, and guards my heart.
"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus." ~ Philippians 4:7

Fight or Flight

And so...It's time to get real honest.  I feel this as urgently as one would recognize the need to run if chased by a bear; knowing you must go--and fast--but praying with all that is in you that you're headed in the right direction. You just might collide, head first, into the bared teeth of a seething mama bear.  (And she is far tougher than Dad, as any man will tell you.)  I am praying for the wisdom I need to find the right words,  the strength and ability to express them, and the courage to be candidly, nakedly, entirely honest.  I pray that the expression of my thoughts, which are not my own, will be acceptable and pleasing in the sight of the One Who gives them to me.  I thank Him for allowing me to write them, and I thank you, my friend, for reading them, and the ones I have already written and posted here.  It is my further prayer that your heart will be blessed at least a little bit as I share the deepest parts of my own.  Because I promise you, that whatever words I may write, I will always, always, tell you the Truth.  Cross my heart.

Answers and Angels

At times I'm fairly certain the angels may actually dread ushering me into heaven when I am finally called home.  Deep inside myself I know that I will not be able to speak (which is in itself a miracle!)...will have no breath in my lungs except to sing His praises.  Amazed, in awe at His indescribable beauty, I will fall at His throne, weakened under the weight of it, yet stronger than I have ever been.  I will sing, and it will be beautiful, for the very first time.

But today I can't see myself entering these gates in a perfect body, with perfect and intelligent thoughts....Having no thought but to join with all of creation in worship and praise.  Today I can only picture myself carrying a whole lifetime of questions for God, enough to last for eternity, enough to fill the heavens themselves.

Begging forgiveness.  Only I could even imagine being in your presence; there at Your feet...with any thought in my head beyond praise.  To be in this place You prepared for us as promised, one that all of mankind has spoken of for centuries, trying, but failing, to describe or imagine.  Will I want to hide myself from You, even though You have made me acceptable?  Will I be unable to look into Your face, even though I am now made capable of it?  It is a shameful thing; coming into heaven with an agenda.  My list of questions, even suggestions, as to how I might have done things differently...knowing You would give Your Son for me even now, as I dare to sit at the throne of the King of all Kings....and ask.

You tell us we will know everything there; that this perfect and beautiful place will hold no secrets, no deception, nothing left to wonder about.  We will no longer question.  But as I sit in this flawed and earthly shell I simply cannot fathom this.  Lord, You know me.  I imagine myself on my knees, unable to lift my head, to even move, yet somehow hearing myself asking, and asking, and hearing Your glorious Voice answering and answering....These things were My will...This is why...This I allowed.  Even this was for My glory...

I dream of receiving the answers, of understanding, of relief, joy, acceptance.  But wanting them now, here, where I am, as I am.  A little portion of Your perfect peace.  Open the gates and let it fall down and down into this dark and confusing place.  We raise our opened hands to You, Lord, asking for just a glimpse, a tiny piece of Your heavenly kingdom.  I imagine it like a cherub shaking glitter, reflecting Your light as it falls, or like the rain coming after a drought.  Falling, covering.  Taking our breath away.  Beauty for ashes.

And then You show me again...Heaven came down to live with us, and among us.  Holy, perfect, the spotless and beautiful Lamb...and we refused to see.  In pain beyond bearing, in our sin beyond hope, hateful, dirty, You came to save, to comfort, to caress the very hands who drove the nails into Yours.  Forgiveness and grace, even for me, who could question Your ways.

I know all of this, and more, somewhere inside this heart, things You have hidden there; priceless treasures I so seldom remember.

And yet, I still strongly caution the angels.  I am a stubborn one.  Impulsive, as I said in my last post.  They will need to clear a path for me as I may just push ahead and run straight through, forgetting myself, lost in the Light, lost in His love, forgetting my questions.  Wanting only to remain in His presence forever.  Asking nothing, wanting nothing, needing nothing.  Understanding everything... And finding myself, to my utter delight and surprise, no longer needing to.

And yes, fair warning...I will sing.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." ~ I Corinthians 13:12

Work in progress

Meaning the Blog...and myself.:-)   It's taking longer than I'd like.  You will learn that patience is something I have never had.  I have been called "impulsive" all my life, even before I knew what the word meant.  They tell me that I once dropped a blueberry onto the freshly painted deck of a navy ship, navy servicemen in uniform and at attention, as our family toured their vessel.  In an instant, rather than picking up the blueberry, or allowing my frantic mother time to do so, I raised my patent leather clad foot and stomped it violently, sending a spray of purple blue onto the sparkling white deck.  

I am about to start stomping blueberries.  I sincerely hope that my words will not stain, but bless.  There is something inside me that needs to write, and it wants to pour out of me at an alarming, and yes, even impulsive- rate.  I cannot sing these words, so I must write them down, whatever they are.  I do know that they will be honest, and from my heart....impulsive, impatient, imperfect.  But from my heart.

Can't wait.  Talk soon.