Life After Expectation

It's already late and I'm just now settling down from our home fellowship of believers and I can't stop thinking and this is my cue for words.

So much promise was expected from last year. New beginnings, fresh starts, moving forward to whip up this farm and make it right once for all.

Instead, I'm living with trash.

Debris. Falling apart. Ruins. Part wasteland, part redeemed and part messy-in-betweens. It's gotten better in slow-time.

Last year's zeal in starting anew and the uber-gobs of planned change, only ended up being a painful crawl of waiting things. Many good changes came these last 12 months, like baby steps tottering back and forth unsteady.

My emotions swinging like a pendulum from humble and grateful to irate and how long before "We get there anyway?" To crying a whole weekend just because it seems like "there" will never be here.

And it's more than the farm, it's lives, or my life which can feel part redeemed, part messy-in-betweens.

Hind-sight would mark last year in big and bold the year of: Expectation. Many on hold, many still planning, many in process, and what is stuff anyway?

Obviously, "important" stuff.

A furnace and consuming fire has been my bread most this year. I come here to smolder out my heart and blaze a word trail, finding temporary relief. Manna has filled me and isn't this really the important stuff?

The world wooes me by expectations.

Petty.

Minor.

Too little and too much of nothing.

I want to thresh them like chaff. Hold them up, let the wind catch and blow them away.

Flesh which wants ease and worldly complacency is a slumbering beast, dull, and medicored. Spewed out. An open drain to swallow lukewarmness.

And I've burned, like a flame licking water. Consumed and I need this place to unshut the fire in my bones. I want to stand on the threshing floor and let a Holy wind separate my chaff. Let a stirring enratpure, hair whipping like a prairie wind and say:

"Let it blow!"

"Let me feel your Spirit. And Blow."

How can we experience His breath and not want more than oxygen? How can we look into His eyes and not want to be blinded? How can I burn for Him and not expect this? 

How can I come and not have: Anticipation?



2011--Anticipation

I shared this at Ann's place. For more words click over to read or live your own. And since we're sharing our one word over at Bonnie Gray's "Faith Barista"...I linked up there too. Click over and read or join your own word with others at either site.