Each year I journal in preparation for the new year. Usually a crafty journal like the two above. Because obviously crafty equals more fun.
2014's picture ended up meaning a lot of different things to me. But it wasn't until just now that I think I have the owl figured out. I had a very pressing desire for the word "Hope" and to make that owl in January of last year. I didn't know why. I think I do now-- Last year was "Hope in Wilderness." And it was one of my hardest years to date, but it was also one of the most beautiful.
2015 can't be wilderness anymore.
I've been there too long.
And He's been good to me there,
but the only one keeping me there at this point, is me.
If there's going to be difficulty or struggle at this point,
it can't be in the wilderness.
It has to be while I'm on my way out.
Or better yet, while settling into the new territory.
I find it no coincidence that as I began creating 2015, placing the stickers on to spell "steady," I spelled it wrong. I had to remove one of the letters only to leave an imperfection in its spot and knowing that when I'd move that letter to its proper spot that it was not going to lie flat. I contemplated starting all over. Throwing out the paper and the sticker letters that I already barely had enough to begin with. If I'm going to engage in crafty Jesus time it's got to be visually satisfying so as to be spiritually satisfying.
But I didn't throw it out.
I didn't start over.
I need to do it --imperfectly.
Because that's okay.
Imperfect, is okay.
Not wrong as I so often immediately define it.
Imperfect, indicates courage and boldness to move ahead.
Imperfect, indicates learning and growing and maturing.
Steady is in gold. (Mainly because I didn't have enough of the black letters.)
My imperfect steady letters are in gold.
My imperfect gold.
But here's the thing:
Imperfect gold --is still gold.
About the gold:
Remember my description of my heart? (Go back and read, "I AM...full of Him and Icecream")
The door of the back room of my heart?
Solid. Gold. Door.
Folks, you're looking at gold.
A Foundation of gold.
A foundation of Him --pure gold.
About the imperfect:
The Father showed me another room of my heart recently.
A room with a bed.
I was jumping on the bed and Father was standing there watching me with a big smile on His face.
After a few jumps, I fell.
I sat, disappointed at my fall.
The Father just compassionately grinned.
He handed me a cookie, a sort of encouragement for jumping and encouragement to try to again.
I stood back up and began jumping again.
And again, I fell.
And again, He handed me another cookie.
And again, I stood back up to continue jumping.
Before long I noticed the wall on the other side of the room was lined with long tables.
Tables, filled with cookies.
Thousands of cookies.
He gave me a cookie when I fell?
At the moment when you'd think that there would only be disappointment at the mistake or the error
--the moment is met with reward?
Maybe there's a better word, maybe it's not a reward.
Nonetheless, the fall is met with a positive as opposed to a negative.
Imperfections do not mean He's not standing there.
Imperfections do not mean He's not right there with me.
Imperfections do not necessarily mean He's not grinning His proud Daddy grin.
Imperfections do not mean He's disappointed.
Father is there with a thousand plus cookies waiting to remind me to stand back up and keep going.