Drops of grace

I've been struggling to find something to write about lately. Not because I have nothing to say, but because what I want to say hurts. Because right now, life hurts. One glance in the mirror and I find myself in tears. And in silence.

When my precious princesses are in bed, my life is filled with silence. A loud silence that shouts of empty promises and painful realities. It wasn't always that way. There were days not long ago when I'd sing with my girls or sing with my favorite CD's. But the past few months I haven't done that much.

Because singing hurts inside.

It invites me into a longing for something I don't feel and want desperately.

Love. And words. Love spoken through words and words filled with love.

But I can't get the songs that touch my soul out of my head. Not completely. And three in particular keep ringing through my brain. One is from my all-time favorite musician, Steven Curtis Chapman. In "Much of You" he sings, "I want to make much of You, Jesus. I want to make much of Your love. I want to live today to give You the praise. That You alone are so worthy of."

My heart sings this song in the morning. Then by midday I'm trying to ignore those words because I've failed to live them more than I care to admit. But even as I type this, God's whispers, "My mercies are new each morning." I'm slow to risk believing that. But each morning the song still comes.

Another song that is teaching me truth and binding my wounds calls to me in the times of failure. Casting Crowns "Voice of Truth" yells at me over the waves that this storm I'm in is in His hands. Even more, "this is for my glory" and "I will soar with the wings of eagles, when I stop and listen to the sound of Jesus singing over me."

Jesus sent His disciples into the storm. And so, He sends me. Right now I'm holding onto the promise that this is for His glory. I hope my heart catches up soon.

The last song is by far the hardest for me. Rich Mullins sings in "Let Mercy Lead" that I should, "Let mercy lead. Let love be the strength in your legs. And in every footprint that you leave, there'll be a drop of grace."

Therein is my biggest struggle. To love. To let mercy lead. To listen over the storms of silence that reign in my home and speak love instead of returning the hurt and pain. I want my footsteps to leave a drop of grace wherever I go.

And so I allow myself to listen to the Voice that calls to me through these songs. The One that invites me into a longing that only He can fulfill. A longing that is filled, at least to a small degree, as I let mercy lead.

He calls me to love those whose acts are unloving.

He calls me to long for a reconciliation that scares me as much as it draws me.

He calls me into the storm.

He calls me to praise Him. To sing.

And so I will.

Because He loves me.

And with every tear-filled footstep, I pray I will leave a drop of grace.