Things have felt a little distant this week with the one my heart loves. I've been helping out with Vacation Bible School at the church every night, so we haven't exactly had the time together I'm used to. I know there's no condemnation there, even though it's entirely my fault, but part of me feels so lost.
He's been part of every thought, ever breath, every action. I throw out numerous 30-second prayers His direction all through the day. I listen to live worship from the IHOP prayer room almost constantly. I've spent large parts of every evening this week telling thirty children about His attributes, singing about how He's always with us...even memorizing small slices from His Word. Isn't it funny how sometimes it feels like the more we talk about Him, the more distant we feel from Him?
I guess it's like any other relationship--there's no substitute for quality time (especially when that's one of your primary love languages). It's difficult to sustain intimacy in marriage if both parties don't make it a point to stay connected. Telling everyone about your husband's amazing qualities is no substitute for snatching up the moment to stop and listen to his heart. Nothing better communicates how greatly you value a person than making a point to shut down all outside interferences and give your full attention.
So much of our communicating is non-verbal. In my quest to become a better woman, there's a whole list of things about which I'm trying to become more aware when I interact with other people. How consistent am I at ignoring cellphone interruptions in one-on-one conversations? How often do I multi-task? How often do I interrupt? How often do I respond to something the other person said with a noncommittal one-liner and then change the subject? All of these are pet peeves of mine in other people--and yet, each is a personality trait I possess.
What becomes painful to notice, however, is how often I behave this way toward Him--cutting short our time together, responding to interruptions, making it all about me when we talk. He's always so patient with me, giving me such grace when, in my frailty, I miss it yet again. The Holy Spirit always comes again to breathe fire on my heart once again and prod me forward in passion and in love. Sometimes I just wish it wasn't necessary. What would it be like to live in a constant state of zeal--to never go through those seasons where my heart is cold? I was laughing with some friends yesterday that I seem to hit a dry spell every Thursday, and it tends to last until mid-Saturday afternoon. Weariness? Perhaps. Unwanted? Entirely.
I've jumped around a lot in this one, and I'm not even sure I've said what I meant to say. Maybe what I should have done from the beginning is this:
...I miss You. I miss just sitting in silence with You in perfect camaraderie. I know You're reading this, because You've already written in my heart what to say. All my words come from You. All my seasons are in Your hands. Draw me away.