Draw Me, Lord

Writing about the desert journey is hard. I'm excited to go back and relive it from the perspective of seeing in new ways the things I learned...but I sometimes sit here and cry as I write and then re-read through the parts that brought such deep pain at the time. As far as I know, Isaac is still reading this too, and I worry that he'll be upset as he reads some of these details he may not have known. I know in all of this, he never wanted me to hurt. And I don't want to cause pain for him. But at the same time, I have to be honest about the emotions I felt, and at this point in the journey, I felt pain.

So Isaac, if you're reading, please don't be upset with yourself. And please keep reading. I want you to see what our God did.

At this point in relaying the story to the rest of you, I also need the focus to be more on the work God was doing than the love story of Isaac and Bekah.

Monday, I did, in fact, make it all the way through work, and all the way to 8 p.m. before I collapsed into a meltdown. Part of that was initiated by the news that my former roommate had just undergone surgery for a brain tumor. (She's the one I wrote about in the Sunday Splattering post.) I knew she'd been having migraines, but I had no idea she had a tumor. She had no idea either. She went to the ER with a migraine and ended up staying for brain surgery. Not quite what you expect to read on Facebook. And it, piled on top of the rest, unglued me.

That night, I wrote this in my journal. It is the first entry I have found in re-reading my journals that shows how desperately I reached out for intimacy with Jesus in the face of this hurt. Because of that, I love this post.

Fill me, Jesus. I cling to You now. I miss my Isaac terribly. Long to talk with him. Long to be comforted.

My heart is overwhelmed by a combination of grief and hope.

Thank You for getting me through today. For giving me the desire to eat a bit…to walk. To do a couple of chores.

Restore life where Satan has destroyed it. Give me joy and peace.

Work in my Isaac. Speak to his heart. Restore him to me. Blow my mind, Jesus. Be big – be huge even, in this situation. Be the Victor.

I believe. Help Thou my unbelief. Help me to have childlike faith. You will do this. You will be greater than he who seeks to destroy us. Be huge. Be the center.

How do I do this? How do I live with such an ache? How do I move past the hurt and into life again? How, my Jesus?

Certainly not sentences that would thrill the souls of my college professors. Simple, halted, abbreviated thoughts with no transition among them...and yet these are the very sorts of thoughts that I fully believe bring joy to the heart of the Father. Not joy because I was broken-hearted, but joy because I was seeking Him in my brokenness.

He wants us, you know. He wants us to draw near to Him and seek His face. I did not think of this particular song on this day, but it fits perfectly...

This is what He was beginning to do to my heart.