Grinding, Grinding, Grinding....

I went to bed late last night and rose very early this morning – quite atypical for me (the early morning part).  Disquieted and edgy, I couldn’t reconcile my own turbulent thoughts, and so went about making carrot juice with my trusty Champion juicer – a reasonable distraction, or so I thought.

Instead, I ended up identifying with those two pounds of organic carrots full of juiciness.  I suppose this was symbolic: I couldn’t see the juice initially since it was embedded in the fibers. It took some grinding and pressing for the juice – the real life and nutrition, the guts of the carrot - to show up.

As I pull things together and start my day, I must say maybe it’s been a good thing I couldn’t edit (delete) yesterday’s first blog; maybe leaving it out there by necessity has forced me to examine the sure fact that my own baggage is just as heavy and covered-up as everyone else’s, as much as I’d love for us all to be perfectly transparent and unburdened. 

If I could start that blog over, I’d say the wedding was so very beautiful in many, many ways.  I loved the inspiring majesty of the chapel, the couple’s vows, the right-on-target homily, and the chance to see people I care about who have slipped into inaccessible corners – some for not only years, but decades.

As is not unusual, however, I ended up feeling the kind of pain that comes from seeing my own struggle and hurt mirrored, compounded and magnified in others.  I wanted it to stop - for the brokenness to be healed in some measure (as I’ve found is possible), and yet I felt so helpless to be of help. 

Now I’m looking at my orange-ish carrot juice as I dump the pulp in the trash, and confess how reluctant I am at times to allow the refining process – to bare the essence of my heart and soul.  I’m not always ready for my skeletons to be revealed, let alone healed.  Baggage is baggage is baggage, and sometimes it takes a very long time to unload it bit by bit by bit – even though the arms of a perfect Savior are ready and willing. Aren’t there times when we all just do whatever it takes to survive – to get through the hard times?

My day is quickly beginning, and in a few minutes I’ll be off and running as the babysitter-du-jour of two sweet granddaughters.  But I had to stop here first and state my intentions and my goal for the day: to grind away my arrogance and pride borne of misguided desire, and invite God’s grace to flow into every crevice of every life that touches mine.