...and even more sorry that I hadn't allowed Him to love ME better.
After I said this, something in my soul rested. It was as if my anxiety about my life melted and formed a fragrant candle instead of painful, hot wax. I felt incredibly protected.
And no longer alone.
It's curious how carrying God with you throughout your day is very different from actually meditating on Him. I suppose it's the same as concentrating solely on something that requires all your brain power. The result is a beautiful painting instead of a haphazard sketch. The difference is the process. When I focus on something, like writing, it requires me to make use of all my senses. I have either a candle lit or my diffuser w/ lavender oil on. Chopin Pandora station is playing in the background. I have a soft lamp on. I'm wrapped in my fuzzy robe with socks and a blanket. And a cup of steaming coffee completes the picture. My thoughts are calm and organized. There isn't a part of me that isn't participating.
My five yr. old craves alone time with me. He asks me often, "come sit with me, momma." And when I do, I get the sweetest picture of who he is. We make eye contact and snuggle. I can feel his breath. I stroke his head. I am totally present and soaking up this amazing little boy that I carried in my womb. It changes my love for him. The world stops and it's just the two of us.
These moments change my son, too. He is at rest in the comfort of his momma's arms. He feels safe and secure. His breath slows down and is able to function better. He has no worries in that moment.
If I actually focused on Jesus instead of the erratic prayers I am used to, how incredibly different my life would be. If I allowed Him to stroke my hair, hold me, look intently at my face, allow Him to be with me uncensored, how changed I would be. I would have less anxieties. Perhaps I would be kinder to random strangers. Perhaps I would have confidence in a difficult situation. Maybe I would refrain from losing my temper with my kids. Maybe I would be more successful in my career. Maybe my friendships would be more genuine. Maybe I would end a toxic relationship. This closeness to Him would calm me in a way that would allow me to be fully myself...who He created me to be.
Prayer is for me. It brings me closer to the One who knows me intimately. It changes ME. It benefits ME. God craves it because He loves us. He doesn't need it. But we do.
Tomorrow I begin a 21 day fast. I'm resetting my brain. I have read that changing your pattern for 21 days in turn changes you. Your brain starts responding differently to situations because it is forced to develop new cells and forces your neurons to grow. I was telling my friend recently that I felt as though I was brain damaged. My brain has been tricking me into making poor decisions that do not have good consequences. And do not at all line up with my value system. The more astute part of my brain has been shut down so many times because of its need to protect me. I swear. It's science.
"Normal brains, when overfed, can experience another kind of uncontrolled over excitation which impairs the brain's function." (Dr. Mark Mattson, Chief of the Laboratory of Neuroscience at the National Institute on Aging)
During this period of fasting, I'm bracing my brain to be totally shocked. After all, the definition of insanity in the Urban dictionary is: "doing the exact same f#$*ing thing over and over again expecting s*@t to change."
So change it is. And a part of that change is sitting silently with Jesus.
If we sat beside Him, all of our senses engaged, the product would be damn close to a Michelangelo painting instead of a jot on a piece of scrap paper. Not that we would ever reach perfection, but the result for that one sitting would be perfection because we actually focused on the only One who is perfect. Besides, you are the company you keep.
And the company I have been neglecting is calling me. I have a painting to complete. And someone to get to know better ... my most Perfect Companion. Me and my brain damaged self.
No comments:
Post a Comment