Seeing God

I’ve been going since my feet hit the floor this morning at 6:45, and even though I was late waking up I was still required to get the same amount of things done by 8am, regardless of the fact that I didn’t hear my alarm. It’s been a repeating pattern here of late, me not hearing that alarm and I know that missing the alarm, despite how much sleep I obtained the night before is the warning that I need to change my attitude.

But it’s so hard to do that, right? I hear my pastor preach all the time on how my attitude is my choice and I tell my children the same thing. And the other night, Jake told me the same thing while he was giving me what he thought to be a pep talk. “Your attitude is your choice, Heather. Now, what are you going to choose?” He spun on his heels and left the laundry room empty with the exception of me and my brain running a million miles an hour. I wasn’t sure at the time if he was frustrated with me for my lack of pep, or that I had just told him that I had reached the point where I knew that I was in trouble. Every few years, when life hits me hard, and I can’t even get a breather in between the blows, I start to retreat. I don’t mean to, but it happens. My thinking is that if I can just retreat far enough back, remove myself from the radar, then no one else can get to me and hurt me.

Yes, Ive been here many times, the last being a little over two and a half years ago shortly before I began attending church. When I had time to let my little brain run it’s course, processing what he had just said to me and reflecting on my current attitude I realized that I needed Jesus in the worst way at that time in my life. It’s just at that time? I didn’t know.

What a comfort it was to realize that I was a step ahead in the game this time around. I had fallen. I was not on top of my spiritual game and try as I might to get back up on top, the world was coming at me faster than I could climb… on my own, that is. I was there. I knew that He was there. I was trying.

But I was trying to do it all by myself. I was in another arm wrestling match with God. We’d go back and forth but finally, I had to say, “that’s it God. You win. Here it is. Take the worries. Take the burdens. Take the cares. You win. I submit.”

Well that lasted a good 36 hours before I woke up with all of those burdens weighing on me, settling in while I slept, and instead of starting my day giving them back to Him, allowing Him the control, I tried to control them all myself…again.

I had every intention of spending some time with Him sometime during the day, but somehow, He, again, got pushed back. Instead of taking time at lunch to listen to the Word and dive in, I spent my lunch hour with a friend. We had to get out of the building because we were stressed. I spent time talking ABOUT Him, but I just didn’t get the chance to talk TO Him.

I ran all over the place today. I ran errands for me and for work. I dropped off and picked up kids at daycare. I worked hard doing and redoing until it was “perfect”. I came home, late of course, found out that Jake was going to be late and immediately, I went into a near meltdown mode. It’s Friday. Friday means the lake. If I get off work late, and even worse, Jake gets off work late, that means that our trek to the lake is delayed and it means that my time with Him is even more delayed. By Friday, I am chomping at the bit to get here.

And I say here because as I am writing this, I am here. It’s 10:38 on a Friday night. I am on top of the deck sitting on an old wobbly, careful how you move because you might get splinters picnic table. No, I’m not sitting on the bench with my laptop perched on the table. I’m sitting ON the table, the rail of the deck supporting the weight of my back. If the rail goes, it’s down into the lake I go. But I don’t worry about that. I trust the craftsmanship of Jake and his father when they built it over 25 years ago. The mosquitoes that are buzzing all around and occasionally nibbling on me aren’t bothering me. Nothing is bothering me. There are no worries. There are no cares. There are no sorrows. Just joy. That’s it. It’s just that simple.

This is “our” place. I could use the term “our” for Jake and I as this is where he brought me one cold Saturday night in November where the full moon was shining and reflecting on the lake below. This was his place. This is where he put his life back together after he and his wife separated and he wanted to share it with me. This is where he told me for the first time that he loved me and where I returned the sentiment.

But this is also “our” place, meaning me and the Big Guy. This is where God and I just chill. I talk. I laugh. I cry. Sometimes, I just sit in silence. That’s what I love the best. When I throw up everything on my brain, everything in my heart, and I just shut up. I can see Him moving. I can hear Him. I can sense Him.

Romans 1:20 says “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”

This is what that’s talking about and I can’t help but think about that verse every time I am here. This is where He is so obvious to me. At home I can’t see two inches in front of my face, but here?

All I have to do is open my eyes.

It doesn’t matter if there are screaming kids or Jake and I are here by ourselves. God is right here. And I know it. I don’t have to question it. I don’t have to ask Him where He is, if I get a few seconds to think about even asking Him. I just know. He’s right here.

It’s the two-by-four obviousness that I want from Him. I want Him to show up right there when I’m at home or work or in the car or in the midst of four screaming children. I know He’s there but there’s the “I want” factor that comes into play. I want Him to play by my rules. I want Him to come to me. I want. I want. I want.

And it’s not until I get here that I think about what He wants.

It’s not until I get here that I think about how my wants and His wants don’t have to match.

It’s not until I get here that I realize that it’s okay if I don’t get my way as long as He gets His.

And when it’s time to go home? There are days that I have been in tears and if they aren’t physically escaping my eyes, they are welled up and I want to cry. Because I know that I have to go home where I’m going to get sucked back into life and the world and try as I might, I’ve not been able to find a way to figure out how to bring what I sense, learn and feel here, back home with me.

But I’m getting better.

And growing is all that He wants from me.

That and a little bit of my time. Everyday.

Not just the days that He’s standing in front of my face, but the days that I have to push all the other crap out of my way to see Him.