I’ve read the countless posts.

They are like opened love letters to the world, cut from jagged envelopes. Each word was placed there intentionally, but the feelings that overflow are more like open wounds cut from the pieces of broken hearts.
I can relate.

The words are place together with passion, tears, relentless suffering and pain. It’s as it each key that is typed was pressed with the expectancy of freeing apart of themselves that has hidden in the shadows of lost destiny. They are written by the women who walk to the throne room of God and beg for a baby.

Each time I read their words, I ache.

Each time I feel some connectivity to them but in a way that makes me feel ridiculous for even identifying with their heat aches.  How could I ever relate to their pain from something different and so similar all at once? Yet something in their heart song is familiar to me. Its a noise I’ve heard over and over. The sound my soul makes when the patience gives out. When my heart break before Him goes seemingly unnoticed.

It hurts.

I identify with the longing for something and yet my heart cry is the backwards of there’s.

I’ve asked Him so many times.
Begged Him.
Called out to Him when only two arms and two babies don’t make sense. I’ve asked in the cold of the night and the lonely of the day; What are you doing? You have placed this relentless desire in me to be a wife, and yet I stand at the door of singleness welcoming passers by to the party that feels more like a hay ride then the Christmas celebration we are trying to convince ourselves of.

God’s there though. He is as welcoming as He is strong, as fierce as He is love.

We, the single ones, have fallen into a trap. It’s one that temps us to lay the burdens of the dreams of our hearts desires at the edge of a cliff and push it off. We are being beckoned to believe that it’s easier to kill our dream then believe they are still possible.

They are possible.
It’s in that still that we must rest.

It seems like the hurt of watching our heart’s desires dissipate seems less painful then the fight of keeping them at bay among the sea of compassion. I look at the barbie doll brides through the plastic window of the world and see how she glows. How is it that one beauty has everything I have ever asked God for? Does she know He has given her the very gift I have asked him for? I know, while I rest He works. Resting for me sometimes seems more like window shopping; which is more like tiptoe-face-to-glass-dream comparison then hammock sitting, let alone cultivating a heart of thanksgiving…..

In the stillness He is working. In the stillness He is moving. In the stillness…I sit fidgeting.

As I look back and forth from history to future, and my mind sways form His perspective back to mine and then all over again. I think about what Joshua felt like, having clear direction from the Lord, to march, to walk, to march in anticipation of walls falling down.

Walk in anticipations of God doing something. I feel kike I’m on the 6th day of the march. My feet ache, my heart wonders. My mind crosses into the next day and lies about it’s happenings.

I saw an image of a timeline, in my hearts mind today. It was being rearranged. The past and future were being altered simultaneously as each unmarked life even got moved from the future to the past and vise verse. With each word from the atmosphere of declaration and proclamation, the markers on the timeline shifted. They shifted because I believed and began speaking my agreement with His promises….. out loud.

Joshua shouted on the last day of the wall walk. The day right before the wall collapsed. In that moment of pure and utter adenine and eager expectation. As a cry of  a mother who birth life, not from her body but from her soul into the earth, my heart shouts in expectation.

I shout not because of defeat, or failure. Not because my eyes wonder into tomorrow or my feet are the only thing that set a pace for forward movement. I scream because He is birthing, and I am expecting the delivery of something set into motion long before I needed it. I scream because I expect Him to move the walls keeping me from blessing…..

Even in the days were all I can do is crawl on the ground, tasting the dust of the earth and the grit in my nails, I will move towards Him, knowing He did not intend for me to get my dress dirty in the valley. He’s already planning to make it better than new, before it ever gets torn. By the time my now meets His now, He has already mended the mess. So often He is adjusting the timeline I haven’t met yet, He just wants to use my words as initiation into destiny. Like and introduction to the world after marriage, like an introduction to the world after birth, declare the name you’ve been given, and walk in it’s authority.

“Give the battle cry, for the LORD is handing the city over to you!” Joshua 6:16

I am Love.
Love Always, Julie