ramblings

i struggle to know the difference.
the difference between sacred and profane. the difference between the heart hearing the Heartbeats and the heart beating loud on its own time.
to understand how One came and made little so much so that flesh was put on and babe's cries echoed in the night.

sometimes i labor over crutches. lines drawn in the sand.
usually by myself.
"here is the line, bek. dont go any further. don't even bother. you can't. its impossible. see the line, you stay right there."

sometimes no line is seen.
run, run, run free and leap into the sea.

somedays when nothing feels right i pull one of the boys close. tight. tighter. dip my head low to the hollow of their neck. breath in deep the scent of little boy playing. pause. count to five. kiss sweet cheeks usually stained dirty. pull close and its as if His breath has filled me.
stilled me.

i feel an awful kinship with paul. why do i do what i don't want to do, and don't do what i want to do?
why?
and i still ask. beg.
still for an answer.

how can what i see in me and dislike be the constant knowing of my heart.
i can see and feel the panic that rises up far to easily. and before i know it, where i don't want to go is where i'm not only headed, but arrived. how is that possible. habits are hard to nip in the butt and kick.

sometimes Jesus is so sweet to me i just sit and weep.
weep over the love He has for me. the goodness He constantly bestows over me.
little wee me.
that i am the one He stays up singing over. dancing around. that i am the one that gave Him joy to withstand the pain of crucifixion. i can't fathom. i sit and weep thanks. prayers that my tears will clean the feet and that i'll follow forever. tuck me in close, Lord. let me not stray so far tomorrow in my wonderings.

what is in my head is not what makes sense. so i ramble. ramble and what for? and who reads? but my heart beats record, bek. record. the rambling is the Him in you, so i put down.
put down.
if i write Truth enough it will seep into my bones too.
if i sit long enough eventually my body will mold to where i am, mold to whose i am.

Jesus. Jesus makes me weep today. solid, good soul cleansing tears...
and He gets me. marvelous truth. marvelous love. marvelous truth.