Gimme Some Messy

Guys – I feel like I’m all jammed up inside. Like there’s all kinds of stuff circulating around in the soul part of me, and I can’t quite identify what it is that’s trying to bust free.

Desires tease me by staying just out of reach and not making much sense.

Dreams thump me between my shoulder blades, sort of rap-tapping to remind me they’re still there, but when I look them square in the face, some part of me tells me now is not the time.

That dream has to wait.

I’m knee-deep in gimmies right now, and my heart is tied to a little boy in Africa, a young mama in Indiana, and a tweenager outside the grocery store (story to be told another day).

Part of me aches to get myself all mixed up in their messy, and if I can’t make it any better, then just to be there doing it with them.

To hold a hand or offer a carpool or bring warm cookies to a corner meeting spot where they might be able to scarf a few down before someone steals them away.

I daydream about this.

It’s something imbedded deep down in the core of who I was made me to be.

Yet I do nothing that puts me right there smack in the middle of them for reasons that are legit and true but maybe shouldn’t be heeded all the way all the time.

This life that is right here and real is mine too.

Urban Flowers

These little peeps and my big peeps need me full-strength, and I continually remind myself that this is my right now – even though I crave to expand  my right now to include them plus the others.

I’m needing to remind myself that God plopped us all right here together and put me in charge of tenderness for them first and foremost.

That they each have a cup to be filled and my role as Mama is to coordinate the running water that drips headlong into each one.

So when I think about Vincent in Africa, or Young Mama in Indiana, or the Nameless Boy at Publix, I love them. For no accountable reason, my heart beats for them too and I pine to take a place in their lives, to offer them an upturned palm that says, “Give me your garbage. Let it all out and I’ll just be here to walk to the dumpster and toss it away with you. And if more muck slings your way, then we’ll do it all over again and I’ll sit in friendship with you while you endure the toughness of life.” Because that’s what I think I can offer. Is just to be there when no one else might be.

So what’s keeping me from moving into action? This is a question that eats away at me, because action, I believe, there should be from me.

This desire is unrelenting in my innermost places. It never dies down or goes away.

I want to wrap up with some kind of solution, but I don’t have one.

My family is young. They need me. I’m the one that keeps this life a ‘tickin.

I can’t just give myself away to others leaving nothing but tired scraps for my guys and little gal in this nucleus that’s been wrapped up together in the real, right-now gift called, my family. My bubble needs me too. First and foremost, they are my responsibility and my love. One day the world and the people in it will be theirs to be tender with too.

So where do I go from here?

I’ve started in bits and pieces by dedicating time from my couch. I click away at the computer in the dark of wee morning hours, but bits and pieces of online volunteer time don’t feel like they fit quite right  for me. It feels like I am walking the bunged-up path alongside the freeway. I’m separated by safety barricades as I watch the fast lane rip by on the other side.

Am I wrong? I have this notion that once I find the place meant for me, that it will slip on like a well-worn sweatshirt, that my right now world and my hunger to serve will merge, and I’ll feel like I’ve come home – like that’s the place that was meant for me all along and all my pieces have finally settled into the great jig-saw of life.

I know enough to know that maybe the Divine plan for me in this moment might not be what I most want to do. So I stay in this place and do my best to do what needs to be done, but it doesn’t stop this dream from whisping in and out of my conscience, and I hope I can stay and just be right here with grace and wisdom and patience.

Sunburst Trees

I hope I’ll know when it’s time for me to make a shift, when it’s time for me to make a move. That when that door opens, I’ll be willing and able to walk through.

Until then, I’ll keep plugging away, doing my best to do what’s best with my very own right now.

I’ll strive to honor each moment of it, because even if it’s not made up of sparkly dream fabric, it is the cloth of a magnificent gift that was crafted lovingly and specifically for me, and I can’t deny the beauty of it, just as it is, right in this very moment.

And while I do that, while I intentionally value this right-now life, I will search for ways to dip my toes into strange and unknown crisp-cold waters – to touch the messy of those around me, ones I know and ones I don ‘t.

I’ll keep my eyes wide open, venture into other parts of the city, look for those who might need the little bits I can give, and I’ll trust that this is right where I’m supposed to be.

8 thoughts on “Gimme Some Messy

  1. You have such a lovely and giving soul, my friend! Everyone in your life is lucky to have you, and you’re right–you can never give as much as you’d like, to everyone you’d like.

    You’re doing wonderful things, here and now, and it’s so easy to forget that when you’re convinced that there’s something else out there you’re supposed to be chasing. I can completely relate!

  2. Beautiful writing, thank you for sharing. I often struggle with similar feelings of “is this ALL I can/should do right now?!” and have to remind myself to treasure each day and recognize the monumental task of bringing up godly children in this world. This phase too will pass and there will be so much time for more, if that’s in the plans for us…

    • Yes, this phase will pass. Remembering to treasure the little moments of motherhood can seem silly sometimes, right? If we only look at the thankless stuff, anyway. One day we’ll see our years of “work” come to fruition – and, by golly, I hope I did a good job!

  3. I’ve read this post a couple times now and have been thinking about it for a couple days. I think you’re not unlike a lot of people. I love your description of “jammed up” – ‘Dreams thump me between my shoulder blades, sort of rap-tapping to remind me they’re still there’. I have those same yearnings for putting something on like a “well-worn sweatshirt,” something that isn’t what I’m doing. But I’m bidding my time, too.

    But like you said, our current now is lovingly and specifically made for us. We’re doing something quite grand that requires more garbage clean-up and muck throwing than we might be doing otherwise, literal and most definitely figurative. Our littles are teaching us how to do it the right way or at least the attempt of it. They are the training grounds and sometimes all poop covered and asking for the upteenth time for another snack. 🙂

    I know we just know each other through blog land, but I think you’re doing an awesome job. You have wit, an attempt at balance, drive, and love. I think the future right places will be there when we’re ready.

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