A Lower Threshold

This month, I was supposed to work the needles, showing how practice will make improvement on my October “New Thing’.
       I have a confession: I picked up the needles maybe 5 times this month.

*Sigh, I wish it were more. I wish I had done better. I really want to learn, to see if its something I’ll enjoy for years to come. Yet this was not the best month. However, arguably, spending my time and focus on that task would have been a better alternative than soaking in the stale-hood that October became for my life.

There is a saying I came up with Sunday, that I believe is a potently accurate mantra – one that I perceive I’ll keep for the rest of my days:

I have a lower threshold for crap.

It’s oh so true. I do. 
With everything that has happened this month, with all I’ve been walking through and the side issues that joined – I believe my personality is a bit shifted. And I don’t think this is a bad thing. 
Not at all actually.

I am still a person full of empathy. I have sensitivity running wild through my veins. My bones ache with the pain of others. My rivers overflow in thanksgiving of others as well. I feel oh so much and no matter what I’ve heard spat at me by some throughout my life:
 being sensitive is not a handicap. It is nothing to apologize for.

I’ve also had beautiful souls speak those very words into my ears – often fresh behind the opposing point of view of another – often just because they want to speak truth for me. I shine with love in those moments. The unabashed realness of support. Of compassion. It is a medicine that can never be overdosed. 
I am still a person who passionately loves her LORD. With fervor and rawness that cannot be manufactured. In the darkest of valleys, the dusk of a world turning upside down, the countless meals made out of salty sorrow — through everything and more, I see my Savior for who He is. He never abandons, never turns back, never drops the ball or forgets His child. He always perseveres, is always patient. He reaches out immediately, each time my hoarse cry bellows “Lord, save me!’. My hand is perpetually in His. That intimacy, that closeness, the feel of His Spirit on mine, is a thrill and condolence far beyond other experience or expression. It flutters my very heart – His abundance of love for me. 
I am still a person who doesn’t understand the steps of His will. I know my ways are established by Him, yet I still can’t grasp His timing. I still wish for my own 8 times out of 10. I still try to steer, while calling it “His path”. I gasp and grasp and heave for control, and break apart in pieces when I realize once again, that I only make bigger messes. My meager hands are ill equipped to mold beauty from clay. He is a genius at it. 
No seamstress sows splendor better than He. 
No architect constructs mountains of glory from heaps of ashes like Him. 
No composer can orchestrate a symphony of peace and stillness like the maestro Himself.
I stand at the throne of grace regularly. I swallow mounds of humbled truth. I give Him my frustration, anger, heartache, broken spirit, joy, excitement, surprise, and terrifying hope. I have nowhere else to put it all. No where and no one else that can carry it all. No one and nothing is equipped to carry a bucket of flesh and bone like the Son who saves. 
    I am given fellow temporary dwellers to share my self with, yes. And the times where I try to change too much and think “it’s easier to go solitary for a while. Less painful and certainly ‘safer’.” I am reminded of Philippians 2:1-4, 1 John 1:7, John 17:20-23, Ephesians 4:1-7, Colossians 3:12-17, 1 Corinthians 12 (the entire chapter), 1 Thessalonians 5:8-18, Hebrews 3:13.
       His Word overtakes any doubt or fear I have. Bottom line. So I may not take as much of the frivolity of life, or the unimportant squabbles that used to drag me in, or the attitudes that I use to wrestle if I was the cause of…now I see it’s not always me. It’s not even about me most of the time at all. I am not responsible for all the mistakes of the world or of others. We are each responsible for ourselves – and for how we treat others. We were created with the ability to choose. The responsibility to do so. I am choosing love. I am choosing joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. FAITHFULNESS. Gentleness and Lord, hoping to chose self-control. These are what I’m responsible for. I pray for the strength to make these choices every day. And to see that I cannot choose for anyone else. 
Truth is a stunning thing to behold. 

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