and not pie in the sky happy, goofy and a complete air head. Not that anyone of you would believe that for a moment anyway because you are real as well. You know that life, that faith, has it’s moments where things feel like that moment when we first sat at our sewing machines to start learning how to quilt. Where our hands, and feet are all uncoordinated. Where the words spilling from our lips look much like @#% rather than words.
Life is hard work, even when things are going exactly how I dream and imagine them. There are still arrangements to be made, work to do, goals to meet, quilts to quilt, blogs to write. What happens though when all of that comes to a massive slow down? Well, I’m in that massive slow down. Feeling like I’m moving like molasses down a snow covered hill. Lately I’m physically and mentally tired in such a way that going into my sewing studio doesn’t bring the great joy and relief from life it once did. I know that you can relate to this. As I write these words I can see images of learning how to free motion machine quilt, and to paper piece, and do other quilty things, flashing through my head. Moments of sheer frustration where I walked out of my studio, only to return at a moment when I spent time thinking through whatever it is to see a solution. Yesterday was one of those days. I did some work, quilted for less than an hour, had a conversation with someone then was reminded it was time to go to Mass. I was not pleasant about it, proceeding to get dressed like a petulant teenager. The tears of frustration and flowing down my face as I drove the less than 7 minutes to Church. The tears continuing as I knelt in the pew prior to the beginning of the Eucharistic Celebration. Continuing as I listened and tried to participate in Mass. After fighting them for months I have had a series of nasty, icky, colds that seem to linger (the same as the people I work with). When it came to offering the sign of peace I’m afraid I offended some people by not even turning around. Between my red rimmed, tear-filled eyes and the not wanting to share my cold. I held my hands together and nodded. On the way home the tears, and the prayers were even more intense and by the time I got home I totally lost it with my sweetie. We talked for a bit as I continued the tears of frustration and angst.
I do know deep down that this honesty of person-hood is something that God can take.
It is an honesty that he knows.
It is an honesty that seeks Him.
It is an honesty with myself as well. Wondering, asking questions, seeking what God wants. It is an honesty of heart that surprised me in its intensity. But then again, knowing that I’ve been intense since childhood, I guess it shouldn’t surprise me.
What I’d like to be able to do in this moment is Praise God, like Job. I’m not quite sure I’m there yet. But it’s what I’d like. God give the rain and the sun, the snow and the plow, the wind and the…oh you get this…
This moment is truly a gift. I’ll know what it is later. Struggles come and go. Good times come and go. Fears come and go. Joys come and go. Blessed be the Name of the Lord; Now and Forever.
2 thoughts on “If only to prove I’m real”
You are real and you are loved for who you are and where you are.
This quilter is so grateful for you.