Today
I start the day feeling empty. The emotions of my husband's imminent departure for another two weeks away are threatening to break the dam and the whole thing is just a magnifying glass to any other feelings taking up residence in my heart these days.
I stow my toothbrush in the drawer and hurriedly shove the bracelet onto my wrist, because that's what I do most days. It's of no significance or earthly value, it just doesn't clang too loud or get in the way and I doubt I'd be heartbroken if it fell victim to the rough handling of my one year old. It's simple, round and wooden and I can't even tell you where I got it or how long I've been wearing it, or even why I keep putting it on day after day.
Out of habit, perhaps.
Suddenly it's laughable to me that I even put it on at all. I mean, do I actually think that it somehow makes up for the way my daughter's breakfast graces the front of my shirt or the fact that my jeans are ripped in the name of function not fashion? Or even the impatient and selfish way I might deal with my family while I rush everybody through another morning routine?
Images of white-washed tombs come to mind and I self-consciously tear the bracelet from my arm. I glance into the mirror at the image of my nearly forty year old self and will some kind of 1 Peter inner beauty to shine through this outward mess.
As I leave the room I grab another bracelet- a different bracelet-off of my dresser and shove it onto my wrist-hoping it will do some kind of miracle, maybe?
I determinedly avoid looking in the mirror as I pass.
But before I make it to the stairs I have rushed back into my room and exchanged the other bracelet for the familiar default. Twice.
As I finally reach the kitchen where real life is happening I actually think to myself, "What is wrong with me today?...It's a stupid bracelet! And who even cares?"
I think I'm even tugging at the bracelet when my husband, (or maybe one of my kids?) hands me the small padded envelope from the pile of mail that has at that very moment been dropped on the kitchen counter. I recognize my friend's return address and easily tear open the end of the package, revealing a small mesh pouch- silky and weightless in my hand. I open the drawstring and pull out a delicate metal bracelet.
A bracelet.
I think I'm confused and a bit taken aback...what's with the strange jewelry theme this morning?
But as I turn it over, confusion makes way for clarity and I read the word delicately inscribed on the metal.
Restoration
It's April already. April 1st in fact...April Fool's and I'm the Fool because have I already forgotten? Halfway through Lent and already I've given up remembering that His word does not fail? That His promises stand...that He will faithfully complete this good work He has started in me?
Only three months in and already I'm in need of a reminder.
And at just the right time He moves the heart and hand of a friend to remind me of His truth. This is the year of Restoration.
The bracelet goes on my wrist. I take off that default habit. I take it off and put on His Truth. If there's any hope for sanctification, we can't keep putting on the old familiar. My God is in the business of restoration and I bind those words on my wrist to remind my feeble, forgetful heart.
I cry my way through the morning- tears of sadness over the practical reality of goodbye, but also tears of repentance and relief, tears of gratitude and increased faith. The joy of salvation restored unto me. I am loved...even though I am known.
By lunch I have walked alongside Him long enough for my heart to feel "strangely warm" and here at the end of my day I realize that He is seeing to it. He certainly is not finished. But Today? Even if only in part...
Today, I am being restored.
I stow my toothbrush in the drawer and hurriedly shove the bracelet onto my wrist, because that's what I do most days. It's of no significance or earthly value, it just doesn't clang too loud or get in the way and I doubt I'd be heartbroken if it fell victim to the rough handling of my one year old. It's simple, round and wooden and I can't even tell you where I got it or how long I've been wearing it, or even why I keep putting it on day after day.
Out of habit, perhaps.
Suddenly it's laughable to me that I even put it on at all. I mean, do I actually think that it somehow makes up for the way my daughter's breakfast graces the front of my shirt or the fact that my jeans are ripped in the name of function not fashion? Or even the impatient and selfish way I might deal with my family while I rush everybody through another morning routine?
Images of white-washed tombs come to mind and I self-consciously tear the bracelet from my arm. I glance into the mirror at the image of my nearly forty year old self and will some kind of 1 Peter inner beauty to shine through this outward mess.
As I leave the room I grab another bracelet- a different bracelet-off of my dresser and shove it onto my wrist-hoping it will do some kind of miracle, maybe?
I determinedly avoid looking in the mirror as I pass.
But before I make it to the stairs I have rushed back into my room and exchanged the other bracelet for the familiar default. Twice.
As I finally reach the kitchen where real life is happening I actually think to myself, "What is wrong with me today?...It's a stupid bracelet! And who even cares?"
I think I'm even tugging at the bracelet when my husband, (or maybe one of my kids?) hands me the small padded envelope from the pile of mail that has at that very moment been dropped on the kitchen counter. I recognize my friend's return address and easily tear open the end of the package, revealing a small mesh pouch- silky and weightless in my hand. I open the drawstring and pull out a delicate metal bracelet.
A bracelet.
I think I'm confused and a bit taken aback...what's with the strange jewelry theme this morning?
But as I turn it over, confusion makes way for clarity and I read the word delicately inscribed on the metal.
Restoration
It's April already. April 1st in fact...April Fool's and I'm the Fool because have I already forgotten? Halfway through Lent and already I've given up remembering that His word does not fail? That His promises stand...that He will faithfully complete this good work He has started in me?
Only three months in and already I'm in need of a reminder.
And at just the right time He moves the heart and hand of a friend to remind me of His truth. This is the year of Restoration.
The bracelet goes on my wrist. I take off that default habit. I take it off and put on His Truth. If there's any hope for sanctification, we can't keep putting on the old familiar. My God is in the business of restoration and I bind those words on my wrist to remind my feeble, forgetful heart.
I cry my way through the morning- tears of sadness over the practical reality of goodbye, but also tears of repentance and relief, tears of gratitude and increased faith. The joy of salvation restored unto me. I am loved...even though I am known.
By lunch I have walked alongside Him long enough for my heart to feel "strangely warm" and here at the end of my day I realize that He is seeing to it. He certainly is not finished. But Today? Even if only in part...
Today, I am being restored.
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