Oatmeal

Oftentimes when I'm needing to talk to Jesus, which is absolutely frequently, I think of Him picking me up in a 70's, artsy Volkswagen van with orange curtains, windows down,and coffee for the two of us. He's the coffee expert, so imagine the brew we share. I climb in. Its not about the van, its about me showing that its personal. Him and I. Back and forth.

 I imagine Him driving me through the curvy Carolina countryside. It usually takes a few moments for me to say something. The pre-planned venting and the defense lawyer comments sometimes reach my lips. Often its all heart-improv and desperate yearnings for wisdom and guidance.  But somedays, I stare out my window without saying a word, hair flowing and head back against my seat,my heart pounding, and it's just small, weak, tears.

Just yesterday in the prayer van, it was continual conversations about these things. 

The lady from India I just read about that is still bugging me. And that 16 year old that was mutilated by Houston gangs last week, it's horrible, I tell Him. And my blood work results are taking a long time. Where are we moving to next? How can I get Jackson to eat his dinners? How'd time figure out how to speed up? Show me what I'm covering thats holding me back. I don't know how to mother today. Are there any friends for my boys? And Jesus slow down, its raining.

There comes a time in a follower of Jesus journey when they let in deeply that God hears them.

And that changes things.

Because when I realize that I'm talking to God. Actually talking to Him and he's listening to me, theres so much beauty in that. I've come to know this profoundly, because when I think of this beautiful truth, I don't zoom past it. 

Its enough.

 I'm not asleep to this.  It comforts me. 

A hippy van is much easier for me to picture than a throne in heaven.  Yeah, go ahead and punch me for the outta context environment. Like I said, Its not about the van. 

He hears!

If I say the word oatmeal. He hears that. And until my heart grabbed that He really does hear me and I believed it in a way that got through, I felt quite on my own. Believing Jesus actually hears me has changed my life.

Thankfully, I quit walking around saying 

Oatmeal.

Oatmeal. 

Oatmeal. 

Oatmeal. (laughing)

There's so many other things to talk about these days. I'm in my 30's.