Monday, November 15, 2010

dreams that will last

It is the quiet night that I dread but so desperately need. Aaron off to watch some KU basketball, and I, invited but certain it will not be the salve that this scraped up heart calls for, stay behind.

Set Copco the Kettle on the burner and wait for the whistle. Lock the back door, lock the front, try to not listen to the irrational fears that beg a hearing when there's a bump and thump. "Is that the house settling or the crazy guy that lives a street over?"

A wafting-steam cup of spearmint tea, and I am here, on the couch. In the solitude. In the quiet. In the space where miracles happen, where God's voice is heard when other sounds are not. My pastor said on Sunday that we are afraid to be alone. Am I?

After dinner I went to a concert at the college here in town. A girl with a low, beautiful voice sang songs of light and dark and coming home to hope. I felt like I could see the sky, and my insides were like preserves of stored-up dreams, canned in Ball jars on damp basement shelves. Things long forgotten. "Can I open them up again?" I thought. "What do I have to clear the table of to make room for those potent dreams and visions?

All day today I have been wondering if I picked the right color for my dining room buffet. It was a four dollar garage sale find, gifted to us by my parents, and I have been wanting to paint it for months. The fall was warm, uncannily so, and I took the weather as a sign that the time was ripe to paint that darn buffet. I picked green. Dry Basil, and as soon as that basil was dry, I told Aaron, "I think this is not what I envisioned."

Was it wrong to paint my buffet? I hope not. Is it wrong to buy new oil-rubbed bronze drawer pulls to snaz it up a bit? Maybe. Is there a problem when items of this small magnitude overwhelm my energy and devotion in a day? I think so. There are a finite number of thoughts I can think in a day, a finite number of minutes that I can fill with thoughts. I think I used to fill them with more substance. Those sealed up jars.

Tonight, in a dim room, I ask again. God, give me your heart. Fill me with your dreams and visions. Pour out your Spirit. Show me the things that matter, the things You want me to give my life to, the things that will advance Your Kingdom and make You famous.

I can only do this life-gift once. And I won't be taking the buffet into the next one...


  1. Lara, I agree with this post for the most part. I think we spend our energy on ridiculous things sometimes. But, I also think God gave us interests, and obviously he gave you a passion for beauty and making your environment beautiful and aesthetic. Perhaps while you were picking out the color and painting the buffet that you were excited about (and I don't think it was wrong to be excited about it) in a way you were pleasing God, praising Him even. Maybe He enjoyed watching you go through that creative process. You were utilizing a gift He gave you - you beautify things! You are his child and He delights in watching you be delighted!
    But I am inspired by your sharp conscience and desire to put the Lord first in every area of life.
    I love reading your blog, Lara. You're a gem.

  2. Thank you, Crystal. I appreciate your perspective. It's something I struggle with a much can I focus on stuff? It doesn't seem eternal, but you are right, God is in beauty, and He is in creativity, and He is in a life lived joyful and rich. I tend to be an extremist, so if I can't find balance, I swing to one end of the pendulum.

    I love reading your blog too, Crystal. You are a grand writer, and you are a wonderful momma!