Fosterhood :: Listening for Gods Direction During The Quiet Sadness

"I am after Love that last, not more religion. I want you to know God not go to more prayer meetings." 

Hosea 6:6

Hosea 6:6 in the Bible had me asking myself, "did I know God enough to recognize His work in my life?"  You see, I had no doubt that God lives and works, but I was wondering if He had time to live and work in me. After finding out I could not father a child through natural means, I started asking God for a supernatural intervention. 

I started running in 2011; the turmoil in my life had caused me to gain a lot of weight and not only did running help me start to lose the weight, but it became therapy for me. It started out with me running around my block, one time around and then another and then another. I still had a lot of questions and I felt like I needed the answers before I could move on. Regrettably, I felt there was no one in my world that could relate and could be a sounding board. I have come to refer to this feeling as "The Quiet Sadness." 

It is the feeling of sadness you carry not really knowing that it is in fact sadness. It is the frustration and doubt in your spirit even when your intellect is trying to rightly convince you of the truth you know. It is the most curious of feelings and emotions and it can consume you unless you begin to do something to refocus.

Running became my time to refocus and talk with God. It became a time for me to listen for Him (see my very 1st blog Runners High). I will admit, sometimes I do wish God would speak louder. I don't think my wife actually knew how therapeutic running became in my life. All I can say is that I did not want to burden her more. Our home was going into foreclosure, the bank kept preventing us from short selling and we still had not fully recovered economically to make needed repairs on our roof. Our home was broken into and not only did we have to deal with the loss of things but also the loss of security.

It seemed like with every new stress and strain, my runs got longer and longer. I started to run the Rickenbacker Causeway. I'd get there before sunrise and time it so that just as I got to the summit of the bridge I would see the sun coming up over the horizon. Every time I ran, my thoughts, my conversations with God would go deeper. 

My request before God, for Him to supernaturally heal me, make me well and whole so I could become a father, had yet to be answered by the close of the 2011. So as 2012 started, I was inspired to have one of the longest conversations with God I had up until that point. On January 7th I had my wife drop me off at the southern most point of South Beach and I began to run.

The first three miles took me through great moments in my city. Beautiful moments filled with beautiful architecture, beautiful people and beautiful weather, yet Quiet Sadness was still with me... almost chasing me. As I began mile four my sadness turned to anger. At first I thought my anger was towards God. "How could He be doing this to me?", I asked.   Then my anger shifted.  As I crossed into mile 8, I ran and I realized I was angry at me.  I was upset at myself for being scared to trust God, for the fear that I had allowed to consume my thoughts and for the lie that had become my shadow: that I was less than a man, broken. 

Each mile a new moment with God, a new revelation into me, a cutting away of the quiet sadness. 14 miles run a little less than 1 to get home and I was done. I was tired of the quiet sadness between me and God. I reached out to God, He listened to me, and I felt Him. By the end of my run, my feet hurt, my legs hurt and I was tired, but I had never felt so at peace. 

I could stop running... I was ready to see all the doctors I needed to see and do what ever it took to become a father.  I was determined to have a "Go Plan" for 2012. 

This was not the last time the quiet sadness would come into my life, but when it does, I know what to do...

In The Light :: Driving with the lights on

     I love the open road, truly passionate about driving great distances across the vast expanses of this great country. The highways and by ways are like great comforters, friends who listen to your silence and allow you to just be. They are all ways  present, never ending and simple to understand, ready to receive me always.

     For as long as I’ve been driving I've enjoyed driving at night the length of Florida. I have brothers in Georgia and for me there is nothing more cathartic than the five hour drive. Though family in the car, they fall asleep, perhaps the greatest testament to trust in the care of another, me. As they gently slumber I am awake, both alone and accompanied, by them and by the road.

     I like Florida because on the turnpike there are moments when all one can see is what is right before them, all that the head lights allow you to see. No distractions or congestion, I think others do not drive at night because of this fact. Nothing to see but the black!

     There are stretches where one can look up into the mystery of the black and be reminded that God is surely an artist, composing in light and space. Masterful on a canvas that stretches further than one’s imagination and ready to give significance to the expanse.

• I am on the road and one with the road.

• I am consumed by the expanse and filled by it.

• I am with the dreaming and living a dream.

     Driving at night allows me to be in a moment but free from time. It is a gift that I truly treasure. I thought it would be an unequaled experience… until I drove the turnpike during the day. Recently I drove the length of Florida when the lights were on, and I learned that there are truths that are only understood when vision is allowed to be stretched by the presence of light that clothes a landscape, light that showers the horizon.

     I never noticed the pine forests at night, or the fantastic birds that patrol the sky. The river of grass that carpets the plains and the majesty of rolling hills. I never noticed how the sun would partner with the world to cast shadows that stretched and danced.  I never noticed how the warmth of the sun would cause the slumbering to smile.

     Driving with the lights on allowed me to come to this realization; wither at day or at night, it is the presence of light which makes the road I am on worth being on. Without light, the expanse is a void. 

In the light, the expanse is truly enjoyed.