Worst Confession Ever...

So here it is.
The type of night on which I wish I had a boyfriend on the end of the phone line,
Who I could text and say,
"Are you still up?"

I don't know why it can't just be you,
or some other friendly friend on the line...
I'm not even sure particularly of what to talk about.

So far, I've tried distracting myself with prayer,
Church history,
Elizabeth Gaskell
and Words With Friends.

None of that's really working, but it'd give us something to talk about...!

Of course,
Cosmo wisdom says this is the worst kind of public confession to make,
because it oozes desperation.

When really, it's just a hot night,
and my Prozac,
or my toothache,
or my heartache,
or whatever,
is keeping me awake.

when lonely

Too weird for anyone to marry,
too isolated for anyone to try,
too pep-talked by family and friends not to realise
there must be a strong dissociation in the way people view me.

Too tired today, tonight, this morning,
to fight the cognitive-behavioural battle by myself.
Not that I ever should.

I turn to your word for solace and correction,
finding there a lesson in Divine Maths.

1 + 0 = many.
1 + Yahweh = can conquer a horde.
1 + The Family = is a bond eternal.
1 + 1 merely mimics 1 = 3 = 1.

In the 'New Maths', 1 + Many = is a better representation
of that Trinitarian algebra,
that mysterious formula,
that magical sum,
than a little 1 + 1.

"Your Creator will be your husband,
the Commander of Heavenly Armies is His name."

cognitive dissonance leads to truth

Isaiah 53  contra  1 Corinthians 13

Love is painful,
love is blind.
It births envy
and boasts of its object,
it is rapacious as the grave.

Love is easily angered,
ready to stab and slash at all threats.
Love dismembers, love's despised.
Love is obsessive,
it always protects,
hopelessly trusts,
ceaselessly hopes.

Love never fails,
it's stronger than death.

Love is ugly.
Love is exposed.
Love is embarassing.

Love is vulnerable.
Love is doomed.
Love overcomes all,
consumes all,
takes all.

Love is sharp.

a better Christian than me

I suppose if I was super holy, I'd be praying to thank you for salvation...
I'd be quoting the Psalms, and rejoicing that you're my rock and my horn forever...

But the truth... The awful truth is...

The thing I'm most excited about right now is...

MY SEWING TABLE!!!

What a great joy, to have a friend take me in, give me a room, let me share her space, but more than that, let me have MY VERY OWN SEWING TABLE!!

My new machine sits proudly under its dust cover. It can stay exactly where it is! It doesn't need to be moved! My fabric stash is accommodated happily in the ample room underneath, all my jewellery fixings and beads have space on top. There's even room for my small store of craft books! What rapture!

And the DRAWERS! The drawers! They're so incredibly awesome! So many little dividers, perfectly shaped boxes for bobbins, elastic, scissors, pins, bias binding, fabric pencils, measuring tapes, iron ons and all to live in separate, organised glory.

This sewing table is so much more than I could have ever deserved or dreamed. IT'S INCREDIBLE!

And yes, at the moment, I'm a little more excited about it than most other things...

But I guess that's kind of what salvation was all about anyways...

I mean, obviously, there's your eternal glory, 'cause, you are such a gracious, generous, faithful, creative, powerful, loving Master of the Universe, and all of that is displayed perfectly and supremely in your gift of salvation.

But, it's the bit that comes after. The reason you embarked on that crazy, make-or-break plan in the first place.

Life.

You wanted us to go on living, with you, with each other, with your beautiful world, forever.

And I'm sure there'll be sewing tables! And gardens, buildings, engineers, cooks, musicians and all. We'll continue working for you and for one another, to clothe, feed, edify and sustain. So, thank you for the sewing table, and its reminder of the joys yet to come.