On Fog and Friction

Author Beth K. Vogt has a blog called In Other's Words where she chooses a word, a quote and photo regarding that word, adds her personal reflection, then invites her readers to respond. I have been enjoying participating as a reader and an occasional responder for the past year since reading her debut novel Wish You Were Here. 

Today's post was on the word friction with a picture of a gorgeous blue gemstone and the quote: 
"A gem cannot be polished without friction; the child of God cannot be perfected without adversity." 

This, of course, resonated deeply and I wanted to write a response, but thought with an internal sigh..."Do I really want to think that hard?" Which as I mulled it over was more about letting it touch me in newly tender places and being too lazy to take the time to journal what the Lord was showing me. 

But I finally succumbed to the still small Voice, the one I long to hear daily and desire to obey despite my willful flesh...and this weird place of awkward, tired, fogginess that has been my physical and emotional response to traveling, visiting children and grandchildren, and more travel, which has all resulted in less sleep, being out of routine, the joys of hellos and the pain of goodbyes... There are more twists and turns, but I'll spare you the details.

In all of this lately, I haven't wanted to sit down and write...anything...at all. Well, I suppose part of me has wanted to...or felt like I should be writing...shouldn't I? But how to delve into all this mental mess and make any sense? The truth is I'm just really awkward and messy in transitions. 

Ok, I suck. 

Sorry if you hate that word. I hate it too, but even my aversion to the sound of it makes it fit all the more. 

Life has been one long series of major transitions...for the past several years. Or is it decades? Is it just all catching up? No. I think these recent years have truly been one of those big pivot points in the journey. Sometimes I move with it well and sometimes I feel like mental mush, like I'm walking through molasses, compass spinning, knowing true north, but too topsy turvy to make a stab in any direction. 

Do you ever feel this way? 

Even in the misted muck I sometimes remember one wise thing... 

Ask for prayer. 

As in, "I'm in a fog, ladies! Well, I know that I'm really on a Rock, but it's all foggy and I just want to lay here!" Some of the most heartfelt prayer requests are birthed from a fog enshrouded fetal position. "Help! I fell down and I don't want to get up!"

In this instance, I did just that. And I'm thinking that the still small Voice and the fact that I'm clickety-clicking away here on this singing-bird, fresh brewed coffee, sun-soaked morning are an answer to those prayers... 

So back to Beth's post. Here's what I finally wrote in response to her probing thoughts about friction:

As I looked at the gem in your photo the first thing I noticed were all the facets. Dozens of tiny surfaces cut into the stone. The more facets, the more surfaces to reflect light. Every blow of the cutters tool gouging away with purpose. Not to bruise the stone or to merely amass a heap of rubble, but to etch those shining surfaces to perfection and then, yes, to polish, polish, polish. This doesn't really answer your question, but it is where my mind went with your analogy.

Yesterday I got to share with a couple of young women that as I look back upon my life...the highs, the lows, and the sharp left turns...I see that He wasted nothing. The words we had sung that very morning, "You make all things work together for my good," were indeed true. If there is any shine from our lives, it is from the cutting and the polishing. Our lives start at redemption and are always about redemption. We are living, shining, walking reflections of the living gospel.  

The Word. The Truth...who came to save and keep saving. We are engraved on the palm of His hand and His truth is mercifully, though often painfully, etched into our hearts causing each beat to send fresh faith, hope, love, strength and assurance coursing through our lives. It is achingly beautiful to me...my precious Jesus holding my ache so tenderly and whispering so, so softly, 

"Peace, be still. I am here, sweet child. I am making you beautiful."


Sigh....

Reminded, once again, of the truth that He's written on my heart and buoyed by the prayers of dear sisters, I feel the fog lifting. 

*       *       *       *       *       *       * 

Where are you in this journey? Fog? Friction? 

A friend was recently quoting Philippians 4...

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all."

And I chimed in, "The Lord is near."  

Because I love that part! The Lord is near! Such a good promise!

The passage continues: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."

Wherever you are today...pray. Ask someone to pray for you! Give thanks, rejoice in Him, rejoice that He is near! Set your mind on worthy things. Set your feet to the lighted path and walk. Know that God-breathed peace that sets a guard around heart and mind. It is a lovely peace. 

It is a the only lasting peace.