It's a New Year


It's a new year for me and want this year to be different.

I want to stand on my back porch and tilt my face to catch the beginning drops of rain from a summer storm while lightening races across the sky and my hair stands up on my arms as electricity dances and thunder echoes through my heart and the walls of my house.  And then when I am soaked, I want to still stand, listening to the wind whispering to my soul despite my shivering frame, laden with goosebumps.

I don’t want to become cold, calloused or bitter.  I never want to give up.  I want to be supple, a living plant, green and stringy when snapped, bendable by the Father.  I want Him to always be able to work on me and shape me.  I want to be alive.  I want to feel hurt and pain as proof of my existence, proof of my thriving instead of further bricks on a foundation of numbness.

I want to climb into bed at night, free, bones light and free from expectation.  I want to fall asleep with a smile on my face and close my eyes at night, resting assured in the One who carries me through paths worn in nightmarish meditation.  I want to open my eyes in the morning and feel my soul quivering in the light of His glory, streaming through the cracks in my blinds. 

I want to be joyful and to give compliments as a testament to the battle against insecurity won after many years of fighting with tears streaming down my checks as He lifts my head from the dust to set eternity in my heart, remind me that I am His and settle a blanket of victory around my dirty shoulders.

I want to walk faithfully on rocky crags even when the sun has blistered me, the wind has chaffed me and my feet are worn to the point of bleeding.  When my head is bent, my shoulders hunched, I want to keep on trudging with my heart beating to the sound of the One who makes it beat.  I want to wear my identity boldly, fiercely and securely.  Undeniably.  I want to scream my identity from the roof tops into an indigo sky studded with stars framed by mountains until my throat is raw.

I want to get to the bare, honest, gritty place where I am willing to give everything, to truly give everything, to give my life without a second thought.  I want to walk confidently, one foot steadily after the other steadily in who I have been created to be, head held high, heart centered. I want grace to fall from me, gentle waves kissing the shore.

I want to be a nomad, a wanderer, knowing that my true home isn’t on this earth and it never will be.  I want to hope wildly and fiercely, to be a lion.  I want to believe in that hope so assuredly that my words help to heal the gashes wounded into the hearts of those around me.  I want to paint pictures with my words, pictures that swallow me whole as I grab the gilded frame and peer into it.  I want to take after my Father and speak life into death.  I want to create sentences in the image of the One who creates life.

I want to glorify Him.