Where the Water Is

The thing about going home is that there is never enough water.

In my sister’s kitchen–mouth parched, throat dry. Sitting in the grass with my father…sun scorched; cracked and dry. Rubbing shoulders with my mother, holding my baby nephew, hugging my sister-in-law…
I thirst.
There is not enough water to slake.
Insides become brittle. Eyes burn.  
I stand on the threshold of visit and I dread the impotability of the air—start to crumble inside.
Dehydrated just thinking about it.
I have prayed for grace, for transcendent love. Still, they think my faith a lie—my salvation a trick of the devil.
And it hurts, oh how it hurts. For, if I may not speak of my Jesus without the room falling silent…of what may I speak? How can they even know me if they don’t know that I KNOW Him.
Oh, yes, I know Him.
And He knows me.
His heart beats inside of me. I’ve cradled His body; tasted His blood.
But because I don’t believe as they believe, then I am wrong; I am deceived.
Anyone else I could shrug away. Anyone else I could let. go. of.
But the one whose womb I rested in? The ones who hold my heart?
I must find a way to sate this desiccation. I have to keep trying. We are bound by this blood.
I go where the Water is.

 Blackwater Falls State Park, where the boys and I spent part of our spring break this week.

And love covers. Love covers all.
I am drenched. In need of a good wringing.
It’s laughter, and fresh air, and sunburned skin that needs kissing. It’s working in the kitchen beside my mother and staring into the fire with a brother I once thought was forever lost to me. It’s the sound of my boys singing with their cousins and descending mountains together and wielding sticks.

 My boys with my nieces and nephews at Blackwater Falls.

It’s glorious mountaintop vistas, and bare feet in rippling water, and the good kind of tired.

I didn’t need to say His name (okay, I did anyway…) but He was there.
The sun shined on us the entire time we were together, only I wasn’t dry. I was dripping. wet.
Quenched.
And in the wee hours of the morning when I crept past sleeping bodies and inched out the cabin door, anxious…to meet with Him—
He said, see? See how easy it is? You don’t need their approval. You don’t need their acceptance.
You have Me.
Last night the storm chased us all the way to the place I now call home. The place where love waits for me. The storm chased us but it didn’t catch up until late this morning. I was driving home from the grocery store and was stopped by a funeral procession passing by. The air was heavy and the gray sky pressing down as I peered in the windows at the grief-stricken faces and wondered about the body being carried in that long black car. A young boy stared back.
When suddenly the sky opened up.
Oh, blessed rain.
I started to cry—for the grieving people in the funeral parade and the little boy with serious eyes. For the little girl in me who wants her mamma to accept her; for relief that the thirst is quenched and for love–His love raining down.  And then I laughed for the sheer joy of it, because He was showing me.
I know, Love.
You are here. And you are there.
I know.
I love you crazy.

Comments

  1. says

    Oh Laura – it makes my heart hurt. And it makes my heart sing. I find such joy in knowing that He is all he has promised to be; that in the face of such pain He is the healing balm – the living water – love.
    I wish I could wrap you in a huge hug. You have such a precious heart.

  2. says

    oh, Laura, this is precious. I so hear your heart. Do NOT stop praying for your lost family. Our God is bigger than the lies they believe! If He can save me…if He can save my own decieved mother (she was “New Age”)…He can save anyone and He desires to do so! Keep praying!

  3. says

    You are so beautiful, Laura, and our Father is enough to carry us to the water, even when everything and everyone else around is neglectful of his ladle.

    Don’t underestimate the worth of your presence in their lives. You are seeding eternal seeds into the soil; God is responsible for the watering and the growing therein.

    Love you. Prayers.

    peace~elaine

    PS: Weird, my first word verification was the “molech”; couldn’t go there… retyped it again to get another word.

  4. says

    I can feel your heart Laura! Just remember that as much as you long for them to come to have faith in the Truth, that is not even close to as much as the Lord longs for them to trust Him. He loves them even more than you do!! He is calling them to Him with His love.

  5. says

    It’s been 15 years now for us Laura. The edges mend somehow with time, love, care and patience. I remember poignantly the feelings you expressed. Gut punch.

  6. says

    Beautiful, Laura. I, too, feel a parching thirst going home but graced by knowing the drenching rain is but a whisper away.

    Densie

  7. says

    Wow. This weekend, my father-by-marriage comes for a surprise birthday visit for his son, my husband. That man, he resists. And argues. Too.

    My son cries whenever we read The Word talking of going to hell and/or being eternally separated from God. “But what about Grandpa?” he pleas.

    All of it is wrenching. But, alas we turn to the Light of the Lord and rest heavy in His grasp. And we know, we really know deep into our marrow, that we are right where He wants us to be.

    Laura, seeds get planted. Someone has to scatter them in great anticipation of the rain that will make them grow… This is our solace.

    Blessings.

  8. says

    Oh Laura, Laura… I am sighing and crying as I read your words, they resonate with me so. I feel quenched by them. I do. Blessings to you, dear friend, for being such a blessing to me.

  9. says

    Extraordinary, Laura!

    Oh, my, how I can relate. I became a Christian at age 31, and now, at 44, I am still praying. I’m still an outsider. My mother said a year ago,

    “Even on my deathbed I won’t be changing my mind about God!”

    Ouch. Who says such a thing?

    I pray for all of them every time I nurse my baby. It helps to have a system in place to keep praying. There’s nothing else I can do, and it also helps to push away the depressing nature of it all.

    My pastor recently gave me good advice. I need to stop using any kind of Christian-speak around my family. It only drives in a deeper wedge.

    Beautiful post! Captured perfectly every thing I feel.

  10. says

    Sweet post, Laura. Thank you for sharing your heart. God can do amazing things so I hope you never give up praying . . . and hoping. My own grandma came to know Him in her 90s. (Who’d a thunk?) Lord, thank You that You are a God of mercy Who never gives up on Your people. Please keep pursuing Laura’s family, and may they have hearts that are soft and ears that will hear.

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