Around a month now. Internet problems? No. Laziness? Not really.
More like confusion and fear.
Why am I really doing this? Writing stuff that no one else will seem to bother to look at or read. There was an invitation to join a seminar as a facilitator, and therefore for free, about making money through my blogs, but for some reason, I have not been able to do so. Schedules have conflicted.
First invitation, it was my birthday. Second invitation, I had my 25th anniversary high school reunion. By the time the third invitation came, I had been hired for a part-time teaching job on the exact day that they usually have seminars. Does that mean it’s out? But the real problem for me is that I have no place to leave my children during the time I can assist at the seminar. Maybe if I can join the short, intense ones, but that’s another arrangement. At least, it would be only for one afternoon at a time, not even every week.
I have been afraid. And I’m one of those who do neither flight nor fight when in fear. I freeze. Like one of the species of ants that manage to get into our house. The big red ones bite,and bite painfully. The slightly smaller black ones scatter, and scatter quickly.
But there is one that suddenly stops in the presence of a threat, then moves when it senses safety. And when it stops, it is so still that if you were not aware of them, they would look like a large speck of dust that you can sweep away.
So I sat here, frozen in spiritual fear. Fear of expectations, fear of failing to meet those expectations, and in consequence, fulfilling the fear.
And life can be kind. Where God, whom I call Lord, would have quietly kept nudging, life provided distractions, which I gladly distracted myself with. But the knowledge that you are avoiding something simply does not go away. Even with unconditional forgiveness, guilt lingers, knowing that you have not accepted it and have chosen to continue in your sin.
In all these came the question: “Where can you run to escape from yourself?”
And before that, the answer: “Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell.”
Typical, so typical of the Creator God, the Savior Jesus, and the Constant Spirit to give you an answer before you even knew what the question was. Forgiveness, won completely for me by the Christ on the cross 2000 years ago, is a “thank You” away.
Redemption IS right here.
I began listening more closely to Switchfoot’s Dare You To Move when I heard friends singing it. My daughters reacted to the intro, without knowing what the song was, because they had heard it on Angel Wars. The mother in me, grabbing the chance to be by myself while they watched the video, had never really let the music sink in. Even my husband had noticed, and had asked for the title after, even if I had been able to deduce it while listening.
The challenge of my life, it seems to be. Dare to move. Get up off the floor and dare to move. I have lost count of how many times I have wished the world to stop turning and let me get off, but the most weakening ones had been my son’s death at birth seven years ago, and my mother’s death by fire five years ago. In both times, I had woken from sleep to receive news of death, and although I had gone back every night to sleep, every morning I woke up to the pain of the loss…and moved.
I had to. When our son died, our daughters were only turning two. I could not sit down and cry too long. They needed me. When my mother died, my father was in hospital for three months from second- and third-degree burns. I wasn’t even able to go to my mother’s funeral because I had to be on call for my delirious father who was then in the ICU. I grabbed what precious moments I could to grieve, but otherwise kept moving, working, moving. Living.
But now things seem to be going along smoothly, quietly. The girls are almost nine, rather independent. My husband has a good job that he enjoys and pays him well. My father is recovered, and back to his old ways.
Can I stop moving now?
No…I guess not.
Welcome to the fall-out.
But forgiveness is always right where I fall. Redemption is here.
Time to move.