I haven’t talked for over twelve hours. The long time in the studio yesterday
recording the audio book version of Secrets Over Sweet Tea took a toll on my
voice. I realized that the only way to get through it is to keep my mouth shut
this week when I’m not in the studio. A gift in hindsight that Philly is
traveling all week and we don’t get the kids until Sunday night. Though he might
enjoy my forced silence:) Damon suggests a steroid shot. I hate shots!

I prayed my prayers this morning in my head. I brought my list with me. I’m
pitiful. I have lists for what I pray on given days. But it’s just us. You know
the lists. You know me. You made me with this tilt toward order. And it was
sweet. Those prayers in my head. I’d get distracted, but I do when I’m praying
out loud too. And then I’d veer back in your direction and there was something
sweet about it. Quiet. Reverential even. We have conversations in my head often
that are prayers. I find myself doing it all the time. The man selling the
dollar papers by the side of the road. The young woman at Wal-mart who looks
frazzled, frustrated. The friend that pops to mind. The beauty of this ability
to communicate with you anyway and anywhere. It’s almost like at times you
deposit a holy seed in me. Someone needs a prayer. A name comes. A prayer rises.
Something holy has happened. Not because I’m holy, but you love us to such an
extreme degree you’ll even put us on someone’s mind.

I’ve been reading today where John the Baptist leaped in Elizabeth’s womb. At the mere sound of Mary’s voice John leaped and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. What a
beautiful moment. Elizabeth announces Mary’s pregnancy. It hasn’t been mentioned
by anyone. Wonder if Mary even knew? For sure? And Elizabeth announces it. She
welcomes the news at this young beautiful woman carrying her Messiah. No
jealousy. No resentment. No envy. Just discernment and grace and wisdom flowing
out of her. A real live woman with such amazing qualities.

I know women like this. My mom. Packer. Miss Shirley. They just believe the best in you in
their deep places. They can’t even fake it if they try. My heart longs for that.
Prays for that. Desires that. I do get envious at times. I don’t always have
grace. Just ask Comcast! I’m rough around the edges. Father, I’m still grateful
– everyday that you have grace for my lack there of and you still tug at me to
become all that you desire me to be.

I’m not sure what you’re doing in all of this fast. The weight at times still feels heavy. Since the first of December I’ve been carrying something. Something thick. Something heavy. I have had a few moments of reprise. Like the day I dug out of it when I was listening
to Jentezen Franklin preach on what breaks the chains and he taught on praise. I
praised my way right out of a really bad place. And I know this to be true, yet
you graciously gave the reminder.

But still something has lingered. I can’t put my finger on it. PMS? That’s my go to. Something i haven’t dealt with?A lingering pain? A picture that looks different that what I hoped? I haven’t felt this way for this long since my divorce. I haven’t had to fight for my
freedom this hard. I dig and I dig and it feels like quicksand.

Poor Philly has to be getting tired of it. But yet he laughs and hands me a coke! The
man is a saint. I ask him if he knew what he was getting into. He asks me if I
knew what I was getting into. Touche! I win that one!

But I’m not sure what to do with it father. I am holding onto the fact that this fast is about
breaking some chains forever. Not going back to places I’ve been before. Some
really painful things have happened since right before Thanksgiving. Fighting
for my children’s hearts is hard on even my best days. But let the arrow flies
and my shield carrying arm feels as heavy as ball and chain. And then digging
into Love Nashville and going in dark places. It’s just one weight and then
another weight and before I know it doggy paddling isn’t getting me anywhere.

The house is quiet tonight. Philly is gone until Thursday. The kids come
in Thursday night too. And it’s just me and you. Like it was a few years back.
I’m back on that schedule of early nights and early mornings. I loved that back
then. But that’s been traded for later nights and later mornings. I’ve been
sleeping later than Philly! I slept until 10:30 the other day! I never do
that…

But tonight it’s just us. I’m hungry. I think I’ve said that
enough. I want beef. I want a coke. I want…I want a lot. But what do I need?
Really need? I need you. I need you in the middle of whatever this is…I need
you .

And then I look at the story of Elizabeth and how when she saw
Mary, John the Baptist leaped inside of her and immediately she was filled with
the Holy Spirit. She was in the presence of the Messiah and it affected every
part of her. Her body. Her spirit. Her emotions. She was so excited for Mary.

That is what encountering you does. It affects us. And the power again
of this picture of birth reminds me of the precious text my friend Susan sent me
the other day, like she always does, just at the right time.

“Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex!” Wow, you ain’t kidding.
“Your workmanship is marvelous- how well I know it. You watched me as I was being
formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You
saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every
moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your
thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them: they
outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!”

I treasure this truth. This way you see me. This way you know me. This
way you stay in spite of my hormones or my heart. You are such an amazing
Father. And for this kind of knowing I am so grateful.