This time around I am just writing (perfectly honestly) whatever crosses my mind. I'm not sure I have the mental energy to try and "craft" anything, so welcome across the threshold and into my thoughts.
The week I've had has been full of challenges, both emotionally stressful ones and then just practical ones. Our bathroom basin started leaking all over the floor and one evening (when I hadn't realized yet that it was leaking) I bounded into the bathroom to energetically brush my teeth and I slid. Just...sliiiddd...into the unwelcoming (and quite hard) object that was our bath, which caused me to nearly tip forward into the cold, ceramic tub. I love the word ceramic, although I'm not quite sure why. But anyways, back to the sliding. So, I was sliding (yeah, I know I've mentioned that already) and in that moment I was all of sudden reminded of how for an entire year (I think it was maybe 2016) I was obsessed with the aesthetics of the art of professional ice skating. Sure, sliding (there's that word again- not quite as nice as ceramic, is it?) isn't ice skating, but that feeling of gliding through the air could maybe be compared to what one might feel as they dash across frozen water. In my opinion, ice skating is one of the most graceful looking sports.
BUT. Where am I sliding going with this? Well, I can't say I'm 100% sure if I can articulate it as it deserves to be articulated, but while I was merely sliding through a puddle, for a second, my mind imagined skating with skill across icy ground, the feeling of almost being in flight coursing through me. It was like being transported to a perfect alternative to what was actually happening.
I'd love it if I could slide through one of life's messy puddles and instead feel as if I was skating across it, tastefully dressed in something that shimmered ever so slightly, my face expressing serene concentration and confidence, my heart soaring with my body.
But no. Every puddle seems to land me on my behind or (as my example details above) into a bathtub, where I sit for a few moments, a tad dumbfounded, slightly insulted, and a bit bruised.
Yet, a peaceful feeling seems to come to me when I think of that. I know I can't ice skate beautifully (aeons and aeons away from it, in fact) and I know that I can't launch myself into the air and fly across the liquid, consolidated mess of my anxieties, fear, pain or doubt. I can't pull off really difficult seasons in this life as if they're nothing. I can't act like "I meant to do that" or "I've got things covered", because no, I don't.
But JESUS DOES.
And I can sit there on the ground, and point to Him. I can say, hey, He's my Saviour and yeah, I've slid through some puddles, I've fallen down, but guess Who picked me up? HIM. And He'll do it again. He'll be there for me. He knows I can't skate. But there is a great satisfaction in saying that there's nothing HE cannot do, and that I can have FULL trust in that. He gives me peace, no matter what covers or tries to block the path I'm walking upon.
So, yeah, I may land on the ground once in awhile. But I won't be there long. Because He will lift me up.
*This might have taken twenty minutes instead of five ;)
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The Lord upholds all who fall, and raises up all who are bowed down. / Psalm 145:14, NKJV
