Finite

I come often to this keyboard throughout the day. And each time I think of this little blog and feel guilty. Guilty for not having words left after a weekend that included one day of watching one so full of words. Guilty for wanting to know if our Realtor has the information on the houses we are interested in and checking my email instead of writing. Guilty for reading the posts of others feeling bone weary from the long evenings, early mornings and interrupted sleep of weaning a boy from his pacifier.

Guilty for being finite. It makes me a little defensive. An infinite God giving a finite girl a life, and a call, and a purpose, and a whole plethora of thoughts and words dancing around in her head doesn't seem fair on the surface.While those thoughts dance in my head, pet hair swirls on the floor, a girl dances, a boy catapults, and they all expect dinner.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. 

Perhaps, it is indeed infinite Christ in me who can do all that finite me feels called toward. Maybe it isn't about more striving but more giving over. Could it be less about being competent and more about asking and yielding? Perhaps it isn't about schedule and balance and order, but rather about wind and fire and Spirit.

I started The Forgotten God by Francis Chan. Then I started teaching middle school Sunday school, and didn't go back. Perhaps I will return to the chapters waiting.