Find Me in Nothing

My hand moves some of my husbands thinning hair in circles between my fingers.  His head is lying face down on our bed and I am gazing into nothing.  He’s struggling and I’m struggling with what to say.

All my years spent growing into a spilt family with too many secrets has prepared me well to read people.  To know without knowing, to adapt, to appease, and to never speak what I know to those who needed to feel accomplished in deception. 

I know how to rescue; I am new at just sitting in the discomfort. 

While staring into the great nothing looming across the room, I feel the voice inside tell me to pray.  What I refer to as my spirit, what I believe to be the Holy Spirit, the part of God who hides away in me, the God who finds me in nothing.  I feel the words vibrate though out my body as if my very bones have become chimes of mercy and grace.  Though I hear their sweet music I am gripped with the unpleasant mocking feeling of anger.  My eyes, now directed towards heaven, shoot beams of stubborn “NOS!” 

My little insecure human self, said no. 

“Quickly now! Quickly!  Ignore the chimes!  Where are my ear plugs?!  I don’t want to do this, Please don’t make me do this!  This is mine!  Do you hear me Spirit in the sky?!  This is mine!”

My little insecure human self. 

Yet the music of mercy persists.  My battle cry of ego and pain hasn’t persuaded God to shut up and move on.  He simply stays.  Consistently playing soft hymns and waiting for me.  Waiting for little insecure human me. 

I close my eyes tightly and with the determined pain of a small child told God,

“If I give this, if I let him into our space, he will be here forever and I don’t want to.  I’m afraid.” 

The slow hum of God responded,

“Pray for him”. 

So in my fear I spoke that I wanted to pray.

With every quick breath I felt my heart pound.

Every nerve in my body ignited with anxiety. 

Then I spoke and the hum of my spirit poured out.

Passion came out of my little insecure human self.

And in my discomfort something larger than myself appeared.

A thought, a presence, a gift, some knowledge.

“Rest now sweet rescuer, you are no longer alone.”