Empty My Hands
Our family is in an odd spot. We’re between normals, if “normal” ever actually exists for us.
As we leave one stage and embark on the next, I have no idea how my days will form. What will they include? Which path will they take? As it is now, I’m impatient to get this over with, but also conscious of never wanting to wish my days away.
I want to know what our future holds so that I can be prepared, but I don’t want to, as John Lennon would conclude, miss my life for the sake of making other plans.
I don’t want to be so busy that I can’t see the greatest opportunities right before me.
My wise and loving husband accurately pointed out that I often just want someone to tell me what to do. If someone tells me which direction to go, I run full-force ahead, convinced of my mission. But when things are undefined, I go a little nuts. I take on too much for fear of missing the right one.
Waiting upon the Lord has never come easily for me.
When I’m not where I need to be or sure exactly where I should be, I vacillate between despondent apathy and stern determination to be better. Grace doesn’t enter the equation.
But it should.
This week I am begging for grace and the courage to accept it. I am waiting for the Holy Spirit to grant me patience. Whatever I’ve started that I shouldn’t have, whatever I’ve grabbed that I need to let go, I am trying desperately to open my hands that they may be emptied of rubbish and filled with what is better.
My heart is just a prisoner of war,
a slave to what it wants and what I’m fighting for.
So won’t You empty my hands?
Fill up my heart,
Capture my mind with You.