I know it’s been a while, and that’s to be expected since we’ve been busy since Beatrice was born. I do have a couple blog posts half-written (one being her birth story) but for now I wanted to share something shorter.
Wait, what am I kidding; I don’t do short.
With what I’m about to share I don’t intend to portray myself as especially godly. In fact, I feel the opposite; I am in a season of spiritual dryness. I remember experiencing this after Imogen was born, too. I feel tapped out mentally and emotionally. I’m barely doing my daily BSF homework and my prayers feel like they are words spoken distantly and with little intention.
When the end of the day comes I just want to sit down on the couch and watch Parks & Rec on Netflix. In the moments where I have some quiet while breastfeeding I sit and watch clips of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. I tell myself I need light and superficial, that I can’t handle much more.
Despite this desert, there is a little sprout.
We have a big picture window in front of our kitchen sink. On the other side of the glass sits a camellia bush (more like a tree in our case). We moved in July so we didn’t see it bloom last spring. Actually it was only recently that I even looked closely enough to recognize that it was a camellia.
And then, this last week, right in the center of the window, this happened.
A lone bloom. And a pretty spectacular one at that.
I was very pleasantly surprised. I have never seen a camellia bloom with stripes before. I posted a photo on Facebook and was told it’s called a variegated camellia.
I have been walking by this window or standing in front of it doing dishes and thinking. Not too deep, mind you, but at least it’s a start.
It’s a little gift to me.
My mom gave me a devotional for Christmas called God Calling. If you’ve read any of the Jesus Calling devotionals, it is similar in style but a bit more obtuse and written in more complex, older English (which I like). In fact, it is the book that inspired Sarah Young to write her books. If you’re not familiar with these devotionals, they are written in the first person, as if Jesus were talking directly to the reader.
This last week I was flipping back through a few day’s worth of devotionals that I’d missed and I came across March 11th, entitled “Seek Beauty.” This stuck out at me:
“I am with you. When I wanted to express a beautiful thought, I made a lovely flower.
When I want to express to man what I am–what my Father is–I strive to make a very beautiful character.”
There you have it; that’s what my variegated camellia bloom is–a beautiful thought from God.
I gave up Facebook for Lent. Well, I sort of did. I’ve been back on a few times but it’s been quick and usually to post a picture. I have not been trolling it like I ashamedly have spent a lot of my spare time doing in the last few months (years?).
It was–it does–pretty much eat away at my soul. I’ve tricked myself into feeling, with every “like” I get on my status update, that things are better, that I’m better, that life is better, heck, even that I’m better than others.
I hoped that during this time of Lent I could empty that part of my mental and emotional space and fill it with whatever the Lord wanted to put there.
Emptying hasn’t actually been that hard, but filling back up with the worthwhile has proven much more difficult. Yes, I troll more on Pinterest now. And I’ve been obsessing about how my sweet little baby girl is overtired and won’t nap. I’ve been looking in the mirror at my soft, lumpy body, discouraged. I’ve been imagining how I’m going to organize my laundry room. Everything will be neat and organized and in control–it will all be wonderful!
I am encouraged that somehow, in the midst of all my chaos (let’s just call it what it is–idolatry) something of the goodness and purpose of Lent has gotten through, all because of that variegated camellia.
I look at it, again and again, by the mere fact that my daily routines center around that window. It takes me away from Facebook and Pinterest, away from the way things should be, according to me or to the world, to actual reality, where God resides (which is much better).
He makes beautiful things and He’s making me beautiful. The former is evident, the latter I ask for faith to remember and believe in.
Also, along similar lines, I have appreciated what Amy Lepine has been writing about Lent and also her post entitled “The Long, Hard Winter, Right?” at Making All Things New.