Okay, let me clarify before everyone's jaws hit the floor.
I talk.
A LOT.
I'm Dutch and Irish so my talking doesn't just stop with my mouth, it extends to my hands,
and if you're in close proximity to me and I'm excited about what I'm talking about, there is a very good chance you may be a "casualty of my conversation". :)
My heritage affords me the ability to spin tales. I love re-telling stories I've heard through the years from various family members. I love hearing new stories and remembering all the details so that I can pass them on to the next generation or just to a neighbor who might want to hear something funny or interesting.
But don't ask me to tell you about what's going on with me.
You'll get the bright smile, wink, and light-hearted response of, "Peachy Keen, Jelly Bean."
No matter what.
I'm not much of a talker..... About Me..... About My Worries..... About my short-comings....
It's not that I think people wouldn't care or that there is already enough anxiety in the world without my contributing to it...
It's just that I've always been the counselor.
Not the counseled.
And somewhere deep inside of me there is a wall that surrounds the fortress of my emotions like an old Irish castle moat.
Deep Murky Water...
Scary High Wall...
Dark, Wooden Drawbridge Closed Up Tight...
Unpenetrable.
Created over time and circumstances.
"Guarded" is what Mom calls it.
Although I have GREAT friends who are always there for me, there are very few that I will begin to lower the drawbridge for...
Fewer still who have gotten to step foot on it....
and even fewer still who have made it safely into the fortress.
But there is another fortress that I know. A "mighty Fortress". Described in a song I've sung for many years...
"A mighty fortress is our God. A bulwark never failing.
Our helper He amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.
For still our ancient foe, doth seek to work us woe.
His craft and power are great, And armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not His equal."
"Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing.
Were not the right Man on our side, The man of God's own choosing.
Dost ask who that might be? Christ Jesus it is He.
Lord Sabaoth His name, From age to age the same.
And He must win the battle."
He is my counselor.
He is my comfort.
My hope.
While I may be guarded with some, I can't be guarded with Him. It's not possible. For even when I don't have the words He already knows. There is no "cubby hole" (which I'll tell you about some other time, I'm sure - because it's a FANTASTIC story) I can hide in where He can't see me.
So I talk....or sing.
Mostly I sing when I am on my knees with Him. (His gift to me)
He listens.....and, I hope, smiles....and my spirit feels lighter.
And the moat isn't quite so murky, the wall not so high and the drawbridge lowers a little.
And when I run into you the next time, I'm honest when I respond "Peachy Keen, Jelly Bean!" to your inquiry.
Today someone I know is walking the streets of gold before I feel they should be. Stress.... possible heart attack....or was it broken hearted. Was she carrying the burden of everything by herself? Did she suffer that same affliction of being guarded?
I am hopeful this person who is seeing Heaven first hand with Jesus as her walking companion isn't guarded anymore. I hope she is walking with her eyes opened and her heart full.....and I hope Jesus reminds her that He was listening when she thought she was only talking to herself.
