Conducting Ourselves

We beg and plead to be used as an instrument.
We wish to symphonically communicate His magnificence to the world that surrounds.
We want to be dutiful demonstrators of His divine purpose and plan.
We long for the power of our tongue to palatize His irrespective love.
We desire to achieve a melodic influence with disciplined precision and timing.
But along comes the fine tuning.
Along comes the polishing.
Along comes the replacement of defective and worn parts and pieces.
Along comes the conductor’s selection, out of sync with and unfamiliar to our repertoire.
Along comes the direction – the ordering of our notes, when to sound and when to stay silent.
“But what about the chorus?” we exclaim.
“Why just a line or verse?” we protest.
Our seeming insignificance, irrigated by our irrefutable design and skill, quietly eliminates us from the divinely orchestrated lineup, giving way to a selfish serenade to soothe our wounded soul.
And after a season of accolades and encores, we again return to the master conductor, begging and pleading to be used.
And we are then, somehow internally gratified at the honor a single note affords.
– Tina Allen

Light-Hearted

Well, after dreading and putting it off for quite a number of weeks now, I went to your house this weekend. I don’t know that I’d really call it a visit – more of a formality, I suppose. See, it was your birthday and, well, it was the right thing to do…

Like in times past when I’ve attempted to have a “normal” visit with you, I was disappointed when I left. And just like all the other times, I left with a broken heart.

But this time was different.

This time, my heart wasn’t broken for me; it was broken for you.

And this time, I didn’t leave being disappointed in you; I left feeling disappointed in myself.

From the moment I pulled away from your house Saturday evening, my heart was grieved by a sudden cognizance of the harsh judgment that I have levied against you. It is as if the heaviness of inalienable shame that I had so badly wanted you to encounter has suddenly been heaped upon me – your accuser, your persecutor, your daughter.

I am sickened at the realization that such a powerful and ugly darkness has woven its way into my heart – my soul – all the while, going unnoticed as it shrouded itself in a sense of justice on my behalf. For surely I deserved better from my mother. It was my right. Right???

To think that my mouth could’ve been capable of muttering such evil into the atmosphere; to have been so condescending as to have actually stated that if you had died, I would not have felt a thing; to have had the audacity to petition God for the well-being of my own children as I stood holding such hatred and mercilessness in reserve for one of His children overwhelms me with sadness.

Up until now, I have eluded visits and phone calls with you as I stiffly railed against the very suggestion of forgiveness in my determination that justice shall be served. But I am now haunted by the grim reality that time which has been lost will never be regained; therefore, I find myself panic-stricken as I scramble for more time with you while you are still at my disposal.

I looked at the faces of my two sons – your grandsons – as we pulled away from your house the other night, the younger one’s eyes filling with tears as he peered at you through the car window, you standing there alone in your driveway. His love for you is pure and tender and could never be tainted by any tales of the past. For that is of no relevance to him, as his view of you is uncontaminated and the fact that I have robbed him of spending time with you, his grandmother, is something that I now find to be unconscionable.

Suddenly and inexplicably, it’s not about what you didn’t do for me, but about what I can do for you.

It’s not about me being heard, but about me hearing your needs.

It’s not about you paying a penalty or price, but about me bankrupting myself to shower you with love.

It’s about me affirming your value in spite of the fact that you have always struggled with regarding yourself as being worthy.

It’s about me knowing that when either you or I draws our last breath (whichever of us may do so first – for only God knows), I will have a sense of fulfillment and peace in my heart as I either leave or send you away with no doubt of your worth or of the love that I carry for you.

I would apologize to you but sadly, you would have no idea what I was talking about. For you are unaware of the bitterness, sorrow, disappointment and hurt with which I have been wrestling over the years. Nonetheless, today, I release you, Mom. I release you not so that you can be free – for it is not you , but I who has been bound. I release you so that I may be free – free to stand, free to live, free to effectually do battle, free to win, and free for my own children to extend a similar pardon to me as I acknowledge that I have, in no wise, been a perfect parent.

Because God is all too familiar with the resentment with which I have been ensnared, I publicly and humbly ask my Maker – the One who has endowed me with the power to be compassionate and merciful through the gifting of the Holy Spirit – to forgive me for the err of my ways.

To my earthly Mother and heavenly Father, I am truly, truly sorry.

Your daughter,

Tina

The Mother Load!

Recently, one of my coworkers who knows how much I love big purses gave me this HUGE purse that she had been given by a friend. It seems it was way too big for her liking but she recalled me lugging in my belongings each day, big purse and tote in tow – both filled to their brims!

There have been a couple of times when I’ve forgotten my tote at home and on the rare occasions where that does happen, I feel completely naked and insecure all day! What does it have in it, you ask? Well, let’s see – recipes, articles, bills, the family budget, miscellaneous writings of mine, hairspray, a brush and comb, heat rub, pens, pencils, flash drives, paperclips, bobby pins, and some loose change. I’m sure there’s more but that’s all I can think of at the moment…

Wow, sounds important, huh? The funny thing is that I rarely go into the tote during the day but still and yet, I simply must have it with me every day! I admit it gets cumbersome at times but it doesn’t matter, I gotta have it!

A few days ago, I was lying down spending some time with the Lord. Folding my hands over my heart, I began asking the Lord to reveal to me anything that may be in my heart that He wanted to put His finger on. As I lay there in virtual silence and “hearing” no response, I began calling out the names of each of my children, listing specifically the things about each of them for which I am thankful as well as concerns, worries, fears, frustrations and hurts. I then moved to my parents, my sister, and finished with my husband. As I continued to pray, un-rehearsed words of inner truth tumbled forth from my mouth, much of them taking me by complete surprise!

Suddenly, with eyes closed, I saw myself standing at the foot of my bed, on which laid an open suitcase. I began unpacking the items from the suitcase and stacking them onto the bed nearby. As I looked at the stacks that were quickly growing, I wondered how in the world all that had fit into that suitcase! After all visible items were unloaded, I finished by slipping my hands into the various pockets and zippered compartments, running my fingers along the bottoms and finding things that I’d long since forgotten were ever put there.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was hit with the revelation that through my prayers, I was, in essence, unpacking my baggage and that I had, in fact, had areas of bitterness and resentment that would’ve otherwise gone unnoticed had I not been so thorough in my inspection.

Realizing that I only had about twenty minutes to get to my doctor’s appointment, I finished off my prayer to the Lord expressing that I was sorry to have to leave in the middle of this exercise but assuring Him that I would get back with Him later on that afternoon. After all, this was only the first step. I still needed for Him to show me what I was to do with this newfound information.

As I drove home from my appointment, I worked to get myself back to the place where the Lord and I had left off. As I began to pray, I saw myself walking through my house and stopping at my bedroom doorway. Peering in, I saw Jesus standing next to my bed on which laid the open, empty suitcase and piles of clothes and other contents that I had unloaded earlier. I stood there for a few minutes before He noticed me. Busily looking through and sorting the clothes and other items I’d left behind, He finally noticed me standing there. Looking up at me, it was as if He read my mind as I, overcome with a sense of guilt and, in an apologetic tone, silently communicated, “That’s okay, you don’t have to do that – it’s my mess; I’ll clean it up.”

With as direct and solemn a look as I’ve ever seen and perhaps even a bit frustrated, He looked at me and said, “So you actually want to re-pack some of this stuff and carry it around again?”

“But those are my kids, that’s my mom and dad, that’s my husband! Aren’t I supposed to carry them, at least to some degree? Isn’t that what any responsible and accountable person does? Doesn’t that demonstrate my love for them?” I silently exclaimed.

He didn’t say a word; He didn’t have to. As the revelatory message seeped down into my spirit, a magnitude of stress and weight instantly lifted. I felt euphoric as the realization hit that unless I simply chose to do so, never again would I ever have to pick that case back up and worry about carrying it around. The very suggestion of such relief being so readily available to me seemed surreal.

There remained only two orders of business which needed handling:

“Lord, I am so sorry for thinking of myself as being worthy enough to carry Your loads,” and;

“Lord, please direct me as to what You would have me do with the time that has been freed up by Your redemptive love and saving grace!”

Until next time,

Tina 😉