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With a twist of lime

January 23, 2012

Some days feel like a roller coaster.  One moment the world is your oyster and you just know it’s packing a huge pearl that is all yours, and the next you’re slicing your hand open on jagged shells, and you just know you’re never going to get all that blood out of the carpet.

Isn’t it weird how it works that way?

We so easily forget that we live in a world of warfare.  There is a battle for our hearts, our minds, our very souls…a battle for our attention, our finances, our energy, our time.  I love knowing that the war between God and the devil is long over (someone showed up to a gunfight with a stick, and it wasn’t God).  But I’m not naive.  The reverberations of that war are still echoing through the world today, and sometimes we respond to them without realizing that we’re doing it.

Today has had bits of laughter, bits of hope, bits of determination, bits of thoughtfulness.  But here at the end of the day, it mostly tastes of disappointment.  Berating myself for feeling disappointed really hasn’t gotten me anywhere.  Trying to be something else hasn’t, either.  Disappointment isn’t fun or pleasant, but it’s honest and it’s real.  And it’s temporary. I’m not the first person on the planet to feel it and I won’t be the last.  And I will not die from it.

Hope can be awfully fragile.  Determination can be fleeting.  Sometimes your pockets are stuffed full of them, and other times you find that it all leaked out when you weren’t looking, and when you shove your hand in there to touch a reminder, all you find is lint.

Wouldn’t it be a relief to occasionally look someone in the eye and confess “I have lint in my pockets today”?  Because we all have lint in our pockets sometimes.  And maybe, contrary to what we’ve been told by well-meaning perky people, it’s more shameful to hide it than to admit it.

The thing about having lint in my pockets is that I know it’s temporary.  I know where to get more hope and determination.  I know Who has an unlimited stock of it, and all that is His, is mine.  So my pockets may be empty of the good stuff and packed full of fluff, but it’s ok because I have a thermos by my bed and a tank on my wall and a jug on my shelf and a box on my cabinet and a vat in my van and none of them ever run dry.  I can get a refill.

Disappointment tastes like dirty socks and cilantro.  Refills taste like chocolate milk and hugs.

I like refills better.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. January 23, 2012 9:13 am

    Wonder why they call the stuff in belly buttons lint?

  2. January 23, 2012 2:39 pm

    Okay, you had me until you put dirty socks and cilantro in the same sentence :P

    This whole weekend the only thing I found in my pocket was lint…and it didn’t feel good. But my dear blogging friends have reminded me with Whom my identity is and to Whom I need to go in order to get the truth and therefore be encouraged and filled back up! There’s so much strength in friends who point you in the right direction!! <3

    Love this post!

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