Less me, more Him

I googled "how do you REALLY lay it all down at the feet of Jesus" today.

Because I talk a good game, ya know.

But when it really matters, how do you do it?

How do you really not worry?

Worry might kill me.

And so this week, this day, I had to use "the google" to find the directions.

I came across this post, which gives us the image of a pitcher full of water; a pitcher of burdens that we carry, and how we literally must pour ourselves out. And so I drove to Adoration this afternoon, and I began pouring before I even got to the altar.

Every. Single. Drop.

I am a crier.

Can't help it.

And the closer I make my way to Jesus, the more the tears fall.

I also like to get very small.

And it did not escape me, as I curled up as tiny as I possibly could before the monstrance, that perhaps this was what I was longing for all those younger years when I starved myself...to be so tiny in front of Jesus, to feel His greatness, and my smallness. It is a good feeling. It is something I am craving more and more. Not to be skinny...but to be small. To lose all of the stuff that clouds my heart and mind, to release every worry and useless thought. To pour it all out until nothing remains. To be so small, I am no longer noticed; only He is.

More of Him.

Less of me.

My husband laughs when I tell him I want to go on a mission...that I want us to be a missionary family...I want to leave every single comfort behind and live among the poor. (I have never been camping, FYI, and the power going out is a real big deal for me, and I am obsessed with my heated mattress pad and can not get into bed without it, hence, his laughter) But did you ever just get so sick of this....so tired of everything....so done with the burdens we carry and the worries we hold onto...so exhausted from trying to matter in a world that erases God from its pages; from desperately seeking recognition from people, most of whom, we don't even know.

I blame the prayer of humility.

It is wrecking me, in all the good ways, but painful, still.

I want to be small.

I want to lay it all down so hard and so complete that there is nothing left of me anymore.

I let my dog out at the fenced in part of the yard today.

It is snowing, and she loves it, and her burnt red fur against the white snow was beautiful.

She sniffed for a bit, and then...

she took off.

Like an angel in flight, this dog flew through the yard.

And she ran and ran in circles for what seemed like forever; and I swear, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

The freedom.

The power.

The strides of joy as she ran without being held back, ran free without restraint, ran without worrying about where she was going, or who else was running beside her. She cared about nothing. She enjoyed it all. She simply ran.

Could you imagine how such a life feels?

It is how I imagine we will feel when we finally run towards Jesus.

That freedom.

That beauty.

No burden or worry to hold us down.

No restraint.

Not looking to our left or our right, to see who notices.

No fear, no worry, no shame.

Just simply running free.

But until then, there is work to do.

There are pitchers to pour.

And I am comforted to know that no tear is wasted, He is collecting them all.

And the more I pour out the smaller I am.

The more I pour out, the more room I make.

Less me.

More Him.