Because the Journey Is Too Much For You

"Shooting Star" by xedos4.jpg

The angel of the Lord came again a second time and touched him and said, “Arise, eat, because the journey is too much for you.”  1 Kings 19:7

It’s been a while since I’ve written.  A lot has happened.  Another hospital stay, more heart issues, and a period of upheaval for my family as they try to care for me while I am in the hospital.  With my allergies and sensitivities, I need all food brought in, need someone with me 24.7, and live precariously in the place that has saved my life in the past - or could kill me.

So, now I’m home.  Home and feeling as if it is all far too much for me to handle anymore.  I’m negative.  So, so negative.  And tired.  So, so tired.  

And pain?  Sometime, beyond what I’ve ever experienced - and no known cause.

There are several surgical procedure possibilities for me and some of the decisions are unalterable ones. And I’m scared.

I don’t want to stay in this mindset.  

It helps no one.

I remembered the above verse that a friend of mine had pointed out to me - and went to search for it online.

What I found was this blog post.

When the Journey Is Too Much - Living Your Story written by Bonnie Gray.  

If you are feeling that the journey indeed feels as if it has been too much, I’d encourage you to read her amazing post.

That post, led me to her book - which now resides on my Kindle app.  The book, Finding Your Spiritual White Space, is about finding that place where you can truly find spiritual rest - and I so crave rest.  True rest.

While the book tells her story, it is also a book designed to help you find and carve out your personal resting place.

I’m early into it.  But, I think my posts are going to be my responses to her writing prompts - the first, figuring out what whitespace calls to you.  (Please read her book description for the explanation of “whitespace.”)

This is the most “real” thing I can post about right now.  Will it encourage you?  I’ve no idea.  I pray so.  But each of our roads are different, and each of us must find out way to the rest that Christ offers to us.

And this is my story for now.

It is ironic that my spiritual whitespace is in the dark.  Night time.  My hill.  Sitting, chin resting on hands clasped over pulled up knees.  Watching.  Looking up.  Waiting for that shooting star I have always longed to see.

Sitting next to Him.  Leaning into Him.  Perhaps at times, His arm across my shoulder. Feeling the warmth.  The closeness.



Living only in that moment - that “inside” me.  The one still young, still thin, still healthy, able to sit on that hillside for hours.

No heart irregularities.  No skeletal pains.  Just me.  The me I am when I dream.

That would be my whitespace.  My resting place.  My comfort place.

And in that space, I could safely tell Him how I feel. 





And a bit numb that this is the me I am turning into … have turned into.

Feeling such a burden to those around me.  Sad.  Depressed as I watch the world go by.  And … in pain.

Yes, telling Him I hurt without being judged as grumpy, or self-centered, or whatever words that my pain elicits from others.  Not wanting a solution or an explanation - just the place to be able to honestly say,

“Lord.  This hurts.  The pain frightens me.  The choices ahead?  They frighten me.  I have no choice but to move forward.  There is no going back.  

"Yet, deep down, I wish it were different, Lord.

“I wanted more.  I expected more.  I’m sad that this is the turn my life took.

“I never expected this.  And I feel guilty that I feel this way.  That I should be more confident - have more faith that things are happening according to Your plan - and this is where I am … and where I need to be.

But I am slowly beginning to understand that here - in this whitespace - is the place where I will best find You.”

That is what I would say to Him from the honest depths of my heart.

And, for some reason I don’t really understand, I now believe that I will indeed, finally see that shooting star.

 © deni weber 2010-2015