Hello Holy

I am learning about God again.
Not that I have taken a break from God, not that one ever could.
But I have had a sort of long hiatus from certain practices. Certain quiet and introspective rhythms have been misplaced or railroaded by much louder, more persistent cries.
But today I'm sitting in a quiet place. Reading His word. Letting scripture root around in my gut and impact things there. And I am remembering.

I am remembering that He is holy.
Holy, holy, holy are you Lord God Almighty.

And He calls me to holiness too. He calls us to be holy.
I am baffled by this. But also so drawn to and emboldened by the beauty of the place where His holiness meets my unholy mess. He says:
"I live in a high and holy place. But also with her who is contrite (read heart broken, crushed from the knowledge of her selfishness / pride / anxiety / UNholiness) and lowly in spirit,
to REVIVE the spirit of the lowly
and to REVIVE the heart of the contrite." Isaiah 57:15

It takes me this time to sit in quiet to even realize how much I need that revival. To recognize that my broken heart and lowly spirit are very much my sinful nature being UNholy all over myself and my people.
But God.
He LIVES in a HIGH and HOLY place.
AND with me, in my crushed spirit. He lives in both places, and He draws me out of my self. He lifts my head to see the long view. He reminds me of the High and Holy place for which I was made, to which I now belong. Because even now I am becoming like Him.

Let us not forget our Holy God.
Let us remember Him, and allow for space to meet with Him in the crushed places, where our heart's fractured pieces become the very seeds of holiness.

"Be holy, because I, the Lord your God, am holy."  Leviticus 19:2

Heartsick

Today is January 3rd. Apparently some come into this time of year brimming with optimistic determination and tenacity as they consider their dreams and goals for a new year.

I am just not. Not this year. Not today. Not me. Instead I'm feeling my weakness, my less-than-ness, my "who am I to tackle that pile of clothes, that stack of dishes, that willful tantrum-mad, foaming at the mouth 2 year old?"
This is me today. This is me heartsick.

My heartsickness comes on with such acuteness, and goes to the depth of me. It is bone deep. My head is heavy, my heart is weary, my flesh is needy. I told my husband, I feel like a rotten tree. I am still standing, but my innards are all spongy with decay. What do you do when you are rotting from the inside out, and yet you are the foundation for others to grow? I have these little people who NEED. They are lovely and fun and smart and strong. But they are relentless need-ers. And so much of what they need is me. Me to be solid, me to be constant, me to be very much UN-rotten. They need an anchor, and yet I find myself feeling so very unbound.

"I turn my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth."

What does that mean? Where is the Lord's help? I am trying to find it.
I lift my head, I find the horizon. You know how the Lord came today? Through this. Through finding myself in these words. Through remembering who I am. Because I am not anyone's anchor. I'm not. I was never meant to be. Thank God, I am not ever meant to be the anchor.

I am just another sojourner. Some seasons in this life are incredibly tender. I am in a tender place. My sweet children, also traveling hard and scary roads, are very much in need of grounding. But that reassuring consistency that they so need too often only finds my mushy tree rot.

Perhaps my job in this time is to show them how to trust the true anchor. How to pray in sorrow. How to love myself and my God and my family even in the heavy moments. Even in the mess. Even in the unbound, heartsick muck I find all around me this New Year.
Because He is my hope. And hope is my anchor. Grounding me. Sustaining me. Lifting my head.