What “Girl, Undone” needs most

For a year, I’d waited, prayed for direction and thought of the girls from Holmes County. For a year, there was much that had been afoot. The Almighty had been up to all manner of good, pressing fingers deep into the clay. “De-pressed.” That’s what she’d called it, my spiritual mother. Not taking away, but remolding, leaving prints of His feet, of His fingers on me.

Prints, marking my heart. Supernatural whorls and ridges, the traces of Him, renewing, transforming my mind.

Then came retreat, and the flag of victory waved sure o’er the field. “You trampled him under your feet,” came the whisper. “Crushed him with your heel, took the prize.”

There came retreat, and there went retreat. After a year of thinking and listening; done, gone. And “Girl, Interrupted,” became, “Girl, Undone.” Girl, tired, distracted. Girl, trying-to-find-her-feet-again. Girl, seeking to find the old ‘normal.’ And then the Voice: “But you have a Father.”

Ahhhh. There’s that. In fact, this truth? It’s “all that.” It’s so “all that” and more. For a “Girl, Undone,” this refuge, this shield, this tower.

“I have a Father.” Standing here, remnants of battle falling off of my boots, I say it out loud, say it quiet. “I have a Father.”

For the old, dark fears, twisting fog like around me, I say those four sword-words to fight them. When confusion, discouragement come knocking, come calling, I say it again, and light glimmers. For any anxiety, for self-condemnation, I lift up my head and I say it, “But I have a Father. You can take it up with Him.” Shield of faith, belt of truth, sword of Spirit.

Into this morning’s war fog and the week’s deep fatigue, it was Father who spoke over coffee. “Can I just love you today? Just you, where you’re at and where you are not?”

For you, dear friend. You who, too, are a hot mess on some days, mostly those ending in ‘y,’ may I share my manna with you? These love-words from soul’s lover, from the One who sings songs of deliverance? You, too, have a Father. Can He just love you today, right there where you’re at, not minding so much where you’re not? Oh, say yes. Just say yes! Let Him come. Let Him show you His love.

You. Have. A. Father. “For real and for true,” and, per Little, there’s no one who’s tougher. You are loved and protected, cared for and chosen. You’re His and He wants you and you count.

‘Cause of Him. ‘Cause of Father.

Warmly this day, from me to you,

FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger