The Steadfast Heart

Late last year, I declared that 2024 was going to be my year of fun. 2023 was the epitome of challenging and I had the hardest time letting go of deep feelings of insignificance and resentment toward the circumstances that magnified them. The most frustrating part was wanting to move forward but easily recalling the unmet expectations of the past year that turned into skepticism of a positive future. Coming up short, I decided if I just tried to make life more fun, I’d win at it.

Well. I made it to January 11th before sensing my own defeat. Life is just as challenging as it was twelve days ago when I was still living in last year. And I’m not having very much fun, as much as I’m trying to not take myself too seriously. Loneliness is likely the biggest escalator of my best intentions. I’m an extrovert who works from home, dependent on virtual reality for connection, most days. I’m starting to believe that cat ladies are the people who understand the key to human survival after all.

2024’s Year of Fun pledge was simply a longing for my ideal preferences to continuously come true. Reality did not let me get very far. But what’s saved me on days when I’m doubting or wondering, or feel myself over-striving to feel enough is one thing: being present with Jesus. And he’s showing me old and new ways I can do that. Dallas Willard said, “Prayer is Jesus walking right up to you and listening.” When I heard that this week, it shifted my posture from praying throughout the day to being in constant conversation with God. It’s the miracle of all miracles that I’m both alone during working hours, and yet always within reach of eternal connection.

It’s given me the freedom to wonder about so many things, to cast daily frustrations onto Him, and to practice asking for what I need and then listening in comfortable silence for it. And I hear him whisper just one thing: “This is it.”

This is it. This is my life. And my reaction to that reality can either be disappointment or intentional presence within it. I get one shot with my kids. With my marriage. With my opportunities. With my loneliness. Another way my dad phrased it to me recently was, “Don’t waste your winter.” And that’s been freeing to get on the other side of wondering what’s missing. Nothing is. Not when I’m drawn into the present.

What continues to keep me present is gratitude, as it always does. Out of the overflow of practicing the presence of God has come small, quiet moments. Flickers of his blessings, really, where He’s allowed me to have a bird’s eye view of my life for just a second. Hearing my sons imaginatively playing in their room. Soaking in the sound of their tiny voices that will one day deepen and change. Seeing the profile of my husband as he silently empties the dishwasher without prompting. The garage door opening as I release the button, a reminder that God gifted me a place to land.

When I find myself in the space of what could or should be, the Holy Spirit assures me in tiny flashes of remembrance that this is it.

And I become overwhelmed with joy and holy contentment, that it is.

Take care & take heart,