I forgot to pick up green beans at the store.

You know you’re in pretty deep when you’re driving home on a beautiful spring evening and all that crosses your mind is what you forgot at the store.

Green beans.

I’ve been forgetting things lately. Tripping on rugs and over my feet. Leaving my phone in random places. Days running together. Conversations confused. Having cereal for dinner…again.

I’m overwhelmed. 

That list of lists keeps staring me in the face. I can’t fit any more in the little squares on the calendar. And my mind won’t shut off.

Do you ever feel you’re just one good cry from breaking completely apart?

I do.  

The tears will start to come, and I swallow hard to hold them back. It makes my throat hurt. It’s like I can feel a lump of sadness trying to go down. Next to it, a bulge of empty. Then one of lost and lonely. (That’s the big lump.) Suddenly the pain is eclipsed by a flashing thought, “I don’t have time for this right now.” There’s too much that needs to be done.

There are green beans that need to be put on the list for the next run to the grocery, for goodness sake!  Ugh!

And so it goes….

The reels play over and over in my head.

…

I’m old enough to remember 8 mm movie film. When I was just about 7 years old, my dad and I would go to the library every Saturday. You could check those films out just like books. DVDs today. That evening, my Mom would pop some popcorn, slice a few apples, and soon enough, we were  watching the cartoons on the pull-down movie screen.

As we got older, the cartoons were replaced with home movies. The silent, black-and-white moving images of us at an Easter egg hunt at the Legion. Or maybe at the ball park ~ my brother was a fierce pitcher. Sometimes just playing in the yard. We didn’t take big vacations growing up.

Every day was a celebration to my Dad, I suppose. Worthy of capturing on film. 

Well…those reels only played for about 5 minutes.  I can remember the sound at the end of the roll. The noise the film strip made as it was flapping against the metal on the projector. Spinning over and over. Rhythmic and anesthetizing.

…

That’s what life has felt like recently. Well, maybe longer than recently. Like I’m stuck on that perpetual spinning reel. But I’m not the one at the controls. So even if I’m ready to get off,  I have to rely on someone else to stop the machine.

In my life, that plays out in different ways.  It translates to who I become in my daily interactions.  It tempers my ability to take in and recognize the quiet beauties of this life. I become numb. I listen to well-meaning words of friends and loved ones. The thoughtfully intended expressions just seem to move through me. Past my perceptual capabilities. The ‘reel’ is moving too quickly for anything to possibly get in.

Something in a day can trigger a meltdown.  A song. A word. A photograph. Anything that reminds me of the stress of emotion that has been such a heavy burden on my heart.

---

I remember sobbing in the presence of a friend one autumn afternoon. We hadn’t known each other long. But we had shared beautiful stories. Common threads of life.  Tales of life-changing redemption and grace. God had placed this person in my life for a golden hour.That particular day, I was frightened and weary from the rigors of an emotional upheaval. The tears wouldn’t stop coming.  I apologized for what a mess I must have looked like.  My friend gently placed his hand on my shoulder and said,

“Do you know what I see? I see beautiful. Because it is when we are broken that Christ can enter in.”

…

That friend is no longer here on this earth. I only knew him for a few short years ~ and then he was gone. He must have completed his incredible work here. It was time to reap his reward. Time to be in the majestic presence of our Savior.

How grateful I am for the time that we shared, and the profound lessons that I learned.

He taught me that this life isn’t about me.  

You see, all the reel spinning and flapping noise is just the human experience in this physical world. It’s not why we are here.  We’re not here to mark things off of our lists. Nor to collect worldly possessions.

We are here to do His work.  To follow Christ.

To walk with Him and to share the beauty of His abundant love. To radiate it to others.

Like my friend. 

And if we surrender the overwhelm; if we let go of the noise ~ we can hear that still small voice. I have heard God whisper to me over and over again in my life.  And these are just the times that I have yielded enough to recognize His voice. I’m certain there are so many others that I have missed.

When I pour out my heart to Him and place the burdens of this world at the foot of the Cross, He meets me in a Sacred space.  My life intersects with Heaven, and I touch His goodness as He showers me with His love.

…

Floundering this weekend, I spent time in prayer, crying out to God. Wandering, mostly. Asking when the anguish would end. Doing my best to release my grasp and let go of what I feel like my life should look like. Praying for respite.

God stepped in to show me His quiet, beautiful presence.

                                …

It was another morning like any other at the office.

I checked the mailbox ~ and in it, I discovered something different. 

A folded piece of paper, the corner damp with rainwater from the weekend storms. On the outer fold ~ a hand-drawn heart.  Inside…sentiments spilled out from an anonymous angel. It was from someone whom I’d spoken with for just an hour or so. Her words touched my heart. Quieted the reel of film playing in my head.

God reached out for my heart through her kindness.

“People won’t always remember what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel.”

…

She shared this quote in her letter. An expression of gratitude for the way that God was using me in her life ~ in that brief interaction. (Just like my beautiful friend I mentioned before.) How humbled I felt as I read her writing. What more could I want in my life than to for people to see Christ in me?

There is nothing more.

As if that wasn’t enough for one day ~  God lifted me up, again. Out of my discouragement.

With impeccable timing, a friend texted me a video from the blessings from her farm. Newly hatched chicks. Tiny, golden balls of feathery fluff. Quietly chirping. Warm and fragile. First, she counted three that had hatched. Then minutes later, she texted again. Now…six little biddies. Mama had been broody for weeks, and today she revealed why.

A beautiful reminder of how God continually offers New Life in Him.  

…

I will forever cherish the way that God reached down and held my weary heart today. Not once, but twice. How He so lovingly reminded me that this journey is not for me to understand. Not for me to orchestrate.

It is only for me to delight in the Joy of His great giving.

To receive. 

His Divine and Master Plan ~ each encounter, each little miracle, each beautiful moment is especially chosen uniquely for us. For He knows us better than we know ourselves and He has great things in store.

Watch and be amazed my friend ~ as He whispers beautiful moments into your life, as well!