May 19, 2012

Keep Looking Up.

Light dappling through the small high windows above me.
Faint strains of music and sound from a farther room winding their way through the house and to my door.
Items scattered haphazardly about-
Stacks of journals, cookbooks, poetry collections,
Old receipts atop letters that are waiting to be answered,
Articles of clothing thrown about the room, draped over the back of the bed, 
Yarn, paper mache teacups, a sketchpad (rather the worse for wear), and a paper birdcage-
All the symptoms of a person normally accustomed to cleanliness yet forced to abandon her orderly habits.
My time has not been my own.
Attempting at least eighty hours for each pay period
(A length of about two weeks),
Daily Bible study,
And Therapy...
I still somehow find myself with bouts of spare time, but rather than addressing my living quarters, I find myself wandering down to the duck pond-
A copy of Mary Oliver's poetry secured firmly under one arm,
Journal and pen under the other-
to sit and stare out across the water, 
Read a bit,
Reflect and write,
And then stare some more.
Or else I'm in the kitchen trying to somehow reconcile my love and fear of food by baking and creating new concoctions.
Perhaps I'm balanced on the arm of the sofa, knitting a hat for a Winter so very far away.
Then again, I might be at the piano, chasing my dream of being able to adequately execute the perfect loveliness that is Debussy's Clair de Lune.
More than likely, I'm curled in a corner, nose buried in a book, large mug (or pot) of tea at hand.
{One of my many new crafts, a paper bird and birdcage}

How is it that, when pressed for time, the first things to fall away are the habits and activities most essential to a structured way of life, environment?
More than a clean room or organized closet I feel the effects on my walk with Christ.
Every once in a while 
(Usually in the midst of confusion and distress)
I look up to find that, once again, I'm relying on myself.
Any image of Christ seems so distant: a world away.
How easily I revert from "leaning on the everlasting arms" to trying to carry the world and its cares in my own breakable hands!
And then the eating disorder chimes in, a seductive voice whispering in my ear,
Promising to give control,
To restore order,
To grant perfection.
It tells me that every single one of my fears can be averted,
That the standards of those around me,
Standards that are truly just my own, impossible to be reached,
can be met.
All I need to do is stop eating.
I've followed this voice before, letting it man the helm of my ship in hopes that it would navigate me through the stormy seas that surround.
Instead, I found myself thrown against the rocks and broken in a hundred different ways.
So why do I continually find myself trying to run back to the hollow voice and its empty promises? 
A voice with standards even higher and more ridiculous than my own?
There is only one Voice that can steer me safely to shore, and that the voice of Christ.
Perhaps this coming week will be a good reprieve.
Perhaps the new schedule, hours temporarily cut, represents a chance to breathe and readjust,
Sit by the duck pond some more,
Rewrite some stories,
And re-examine the one I'm living,
A moment to expand my horizons,
And pray.
Here's to a new week, full of new hope.

1 comment:

Leanna Kay said...

Hello, My Name is Leanna. I found your blog earlier and I really like it.

This post nearly made me cry. I have struggled with the exact same thing! The temptation to control is huge. There are so many voices in my head sometimes I forget to listen to God's still quiet voice-when that happens is when I start believing lies.

I really love your blog. Thank you for being so honest.