I've felt a little trapped inside these lovely walls of mine.
Rain and sleet are formidable outdoors
while sick kids are restless within.
And this is the third week we've been sentenced to such a house arrest.
You would think, since I am home all day,
that I am getting much accomplished.
My laundry laughs at that little joke.
I can't clean my house fast enough to keep up with four little
people and their imaginative play.
I usually start cleaning (although truthfully I never feel like I stop)
around nine o'clock in the evening.
Sometime before midnight, though, with laundry still piled high,
and a house that mocked my progress, I finally gave up.
I reached for my bible as I would a dish in my sink, another chore, a mindless task.
Just one more thing I knew I needed to do, but was too tired
for any enthusiasm.
Emotionally spent and functioning on autopilot.
How would I feel on a date like that?
Just the barest of whispers, but it jolted me from my routine.
Washed my heart in awareness.
My sacrifice is nothing if it is not love.
And Jesus deserves nothing less.
Lord, I want to love you.
Only to love you.
Not just go through the motions.
I want to sit with you with a quiet and adoring heart.
I want to read your words as I would a much
anticipated love letter.
I want you to be my passion.
My blissful obsession.
Sitting there on my couch, with still hands and a quiet soul,
I felt the warmth of His love seep into my veins and
slip silently down my cheeks.
And it felt so good to be alive.