CUP

Maybe the cup you have been given seems small.

I heard her behind me.  I was walking along the lake in Chicago.  Behind me a young woman discussing going to New York to find her “perfect job.”  Strolling in arguably one of the greatest cities in the world where opportunities wait on every square block, this young woman dissatisfied and searching.

I would have turned around and scolded her if I had not once been her.

I remember seeking for perfect.  My oldest son is busy now with the same pursuit, my youngest son as well.  The latter, the perfect grad school, the youngest, the perfect role in the musical.

Is it because we were formed by perfect, we desire it so?

We search long and hard for something we don’t yet have.  Fame, wealth, love, happiness, contentment, understanding, excitement, forgiveness, relationship.  There is always one more thing, needing one more minute or wishing for one more day.

I get it. I have been there.

Listening to my sons, so afraid of failure.  I am eternally grateful to be looking back and still have time to look forward.

I tell them in all earnestness what looks like failure is God directed.  What feels like success is simply a stepping stone.

Never find contentment in the world.  Never find a friend the ultimate end.  Never trust earthly love to be flawless.  These things, perfect contentment, love, trust and true friendship are reserved for one relationship.  That one that stole your heart at conception and keeps it under His watchful eye and heart.  He waits for you to find Him.  He seeks you so gently you don’t even know He is there.

Then you find Him and your chasing to go faster and farther and taller and better is stopped with the realization that the very best position we can hold is bent over in service or on our knees in prayer.

The frustration we had with failure is replaced by the exultation of a grand director, gently leading with the whisper of angels and the tug of the intangible.

It reverses and inverses everything we held of value.  We realize the greatest is least and the smallest is special, and the cup that seemed so small only needs pouring out to grow.

The pressure to do and to be and to have is replaced by the posture of grace.

All grace -the breath, the life,  even the suffering.  All grace to be a part of this grand prelude to the glorious finish.

I tell the boys to enjoy the ride, the finish line is incredibly worth it.  Just stay on the path, really see the view, watch Him work and listen hard.  I want to tell that to my twenty something self, bound to go travelling and living and finding and finishing.  I see His hand stamped all over the passport of my heart. 

Oh, so blessed is the one that stops seeking and realizes what he or she has found.