Good Night of Lost Desires

I had a wonderful weekend in spite of the dreary Texas weather. I spent Friday night hanging out with friends. On Saturday, I spent time with Taylor, Brett, Dylan and Zayne, which allowed me to be present for Dylan's very first perfectly spoken sentence: "No, I'm not!" She said that in response to me asking if she was a daddy's girl (which she is). At first she said, "No!" then I said, "Yes, you are!" And then she said the sentence. So much fun! Today I slept late after drugging myself last night on Ibuprofen and a sleeping pill (I was desperate to sleep.) Then I headed over to Steph and Mike's for take-out Babe's chicken and a movie. More grandbaby fun ensued with Hunter, Dylan and Zayne (which ended with them beating me with plastic bowling pins as I left out the front door), and all the kids were there but Brad and his family. Now I am home in my cozy warm house, listening to music and to the static in my brain and in my heart.

Speaking of a staticky heart, this is what's on my mind today.....

I have spent the last two weeks in semi-seclusion, contemplating my life and the state of my personal world. I don't necessarily feel like I'm on a precipice, ready to fall or be saved like I usually do in times of crisis. No, I've been there. I know what that feels like. These days I feel more like I'm floating in the ocean, calm and serene, the sun beating warmly on my body. I'm a little lost, a tiny bit anxious, not sure where the tide will take me. But it's nice there in the water, floating on my back with my bare toes pointing to heaven. I am a master floater, after all, and feel very comfortable and peaceful in the water. I have no fear at all.

And in all this floating, the following question has popped out of the water and remained unanswered beside me. So I must explore it now.

Tell me, how does a person like myself give up a desire of their heart? Especially when this desire is something consecrated and approved of by God and God's word? I'm starting to feel like giving it up is the only thing left for me to do. If I don't find a way to give it up and not need it, want it, yearn for it anymore, I'm afraid I will continue to be vulnerable and open to heartache. And no, I do not want to give it up because it is, you know, a desire of my heart. I will not go gentle into that good night of lost desires. To be very honest, I will go kicking and screaming.

My confusion here lies mostly in the "whys." Why not? Why this and that? Why did I? Why did you? Why, God, why? I've heard all the standard replies before. In fact, I pronounce them to myself on a regular basis in a droning inner voice like Ben Stein in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off": "Kristi. Kristi. Don't ask why. Just have faith. Give it to God. Kristi. Kristi." etc.

My counselor in Colorado, Jo (who I thank God for every day) told me many times that I am one of the most self-aware and introspective people she has ever met. I usually analyzed myself before our appointments and spent most of our hours together relating those analyzations to her and getting her confirmation and nodding approval. I've done lots of work on "me" in the past five years, and the only true baggage I have left is the little bit I've picked up on my journey to now. So yes, I believe the only thing left to do is give up, release it from my heart into the wild unknown.

Just writing that and thinking about it, makes me cry. It makes my chest hurt. I only want what I want, the same as I give, and that cannot be harmful to anybody. But here I lie, in the ocean, my arms flung wide and rocking with the soft waves. I see the blue sky and some small white clouds and a bird gliding in the breeze. The water is warm and clear and if I turn over I can see the bottom of the ocean.
Calm. Peaceful. Serene.
And yet I still don't know why. I'm still not ready. My heart is full of static.
I'm just floating.