Breathe In

05 Nov 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in God, Prayer, Still, Uncategorized

Breath comes in and words come with it. Long, slow breath fills my chest to tight, and the familiar words fill my mind. Breathe six words in, then exhale the same words out.

I’d like to be able to drop my concerns at the door, shrugging off stress at the wood panelled doorway; a heavy backpack of worry sitting outside the classroom until I’m done. But I can’t, don’t, and sitting still has only given concern an opportunity to gather its forces and intensify, railing against me with every added thought.

I can physically feel my stomach sinking with every added task, obligation, commitment, worry that comes to mind, and my chest is constricting tight, getting ready for a melt down I refuse to have.

I sit in the front row and the professor’s too intuitive not to read me; he knows too much to miss this. Sitting in the front row, I train my eyes on teacher, on chalk board, on Powerpoint, eyeing the exit and wishing ever more that I could have locked my worry on the other side of the closed door.

Forcing my face to read engaged, pleasant, content, I suddenly find myself breathing deep. Maybe a conscious decision, maybe a habit I accidentally trained myself into. Either way, it takes less than two deep breaths before I find myself silently breathing those precious words.

Breathe in, chest fills, comfortable air puffing my lungs full.

You are my strength and peace.

Out again, a slow exhale, relaxing as the air leaves my body.

You are my strength and peace.

Six breaths, eight breaths, and I suddenly feel very differently. The pit and curl that my stomach so often settles into, naturally and instantly responding to the stress of life, lifts. Peace starts somewhere inside me, and spreads through my body. I can feel the rest, the comfort.

The look on my face must change, forced happy gentling to truly peaceful. Truly engaged. I’m not fighting to keep it together anymore; now I’m breathing deep, in and out, six words playing rhythmically even as my chest rises and falls.

You are my strength and peace.

I could say something else, and I try for a moment or two, mentally substituting one word for another; writing a new prayer. But these words are the words He put in my heart last spring, the first time I breathed deep and silently prayed His calm into my heart, my life, and they hold true now.

He is my strength and peace.

It’s telling, praising Him for what I know to be true. But it’s supplication, too. Many times before, desperate, swimming in stress, scared, I’ve taken a deep breath and lost myself in the asking.

You are my strength and peace.

I beg Him to give me of His strength. Strength to hold it together, strength to keep it together, strength to fall apart, shattered pieces falling into His omnipotent hands. I beg Him to be my peace. To touch my racing heart, reeling mind. To still me.

Deep breaths stop, the words silence, and instantly I feel myself sliding back to where I was, the physicality of preoccupation heavy in my stomach. Prayer no longer playing through my mind, through my heart, I can feel the panic of the moment rising sharp in my chest.

But my eyes slide closed for just a second, and I pull in air, feeling the breath simultaneously stretch and lighten my chest, and there it is again, calm sure peace, firm confident strength. Breathe in, breathe out, and God touches my restless heart.

You are my strength and my peace.

~ Natalia

Holding My Heart

27 Oct 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in God, Heal, Hurt, Relationships, Sovereign, Still, Trust

The world is not ending,

my heart keeps on beating,

But in that moment, I’d rather not be feeling what I am.

I’d prefer to feel normal, feel comfortable, feel better.

I’d prefer not to be on the defensive,

sifting through every emotion, every interaction,

weeding out the painful, the hurtful, the hard.

I’d much prefer that.

But weeks pass and things get better.

The sharp wears to dull,

denial rolls into anger, and slowly,

both of them wash away to the soft sadness underneath.

Weeks pass and I’m learning and growing and

things really are getting better.

Right?

But words and a look and hours later,

and I’m frustrated that normal seems so very unattainable.

My way, the way I want things to be, must be the right way,

and I can’t get over that my way might never be.

I’ve set high standards for normalcy,

and the realization that we may never reach those standards

leaves me saddened, and frustrated, too.

I know how to fix this, I think.

When circumstances and wills, minds and hearts, all line up to my way,

things will fall right into place.

But wise words are spoken softly,

wisdom I need to hear.

Wisdom says let it go.

Wisdom says under the hurt and the unsure and the maybe-this-is-awkward,

under all this, through all this, somewhere,

there is reality.

Wisdom says find reality, hold to reality,

and let it go.

And I do.

A little.

I drop impositions,

drop expectations I wish others would take on for themselves,

and I find reality in Christ,

in my own heart,

and to this I cling.

But I’m planning, too.

There are words I’ve never said,

emotions I’ve not let myself own until recently,

and now; now I want to speak.

So I plan and wait and keep my eyes open for just when I’ll say.

Chances and opportunities and not right now and just missed it.

Nervous, nervous. Nervous and determined.

I know the words and I’m determined to fix this well.

But chapel hour and an illuminated phone,

contact and a conversation and God says,

I’m in this more than you think.

Nervous all over again,

but peace grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me still.

Hours later, words spoken; hearts months hurt sit across from each other

and I catch a glimpse of healed, and I feel healing in me.

And it’s over and over, and God’s so real to me,

I can feel Him breathing on my face.

Why do you doubt, child?

Why is what’s now not enough for you; why am I not enough?

Be still and know means be still and know;

I am who I say, and I keep my promises

and I’m the One holding your heart.

And when healing is meant to come,

it will come.

~Natalia

Be Still

01 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in God, Love, Sovereign, Still

There’s a dry-erase calendar stuck to the wall at the end of the hallway.

It’s conveniently and purposefully located to grab your attention as you walk by on your way to and from the elevator or the kitchen.

Next to the little black boxes that indicate the days, there’s a space where one can write one’s To Do list for the month.

In the past, this section has been filled with such humorous objectives as “Be Awesome”, “Be Godly”, or “Be Sexy and Godly”.

But today, as I made my way down the hall after a day of classes, I noticed that the calendar had been updated for the month of March.

Big letters across the middle half of the calendar read “SPRING BREAK!” and various other days throughout the month inform of other floor events.

But it was the To Do list that caught my eye.

There was only one item on the To Do list, written neatly in round handwriting.

Be still.

Not a suggestion. Not a joke. A command.

Be still.

Standing in the middle of the hallway, gazing intently at the calendar, my heart cringed.

Cringed because I’m not very still.

At all.

I go and do and move and work and concentrate and run and hurry and do it all over again.

I’m not good at being still, and I’m stealing from God when I refuse to stop and consider Him, and I’m stealing from myself when I kept going, going, going until I crash.

Two words on a dry erase To Do list and I can feel the guilt in my stomach.

There’s grace. And mercy. And love. Love rich and deep and high and wide. And I’m not thanking God for any of it, because I’m not still enough to see it in my own life.

But I do want to see. I want to see Him power and grace and sovereignty and compassion in my life.

I want to see it and flip it back around to worship for Him.

But I’m never going to see if I can’t be still.

~Natalia

See More

18 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in Casa Hogar, Chicago, Family, Friends, God, Grow, Kiddos, Love, Mexico, Still

I firmly believe in the importance of stepping back from the itty bits of one’s life and obtaining a larger-picture perspective of life. I know from 19 years of life experience that it’s easy to become so wrapped up in our day-to-day life that we completely miss the bigger plan that God has for us. So step back. Take a breath. Be still. And try to see things more like God sees them.

Being able to step back from the nitty-gritty details of one’s life and see the grander, greater plan that God has for us is marvelous, but it’s not all sunshine and smiley faces. From where I sit, right here in my dorm in downtown Chicago, I can see the assignments that I need to get done this week. The classes waiting for me tomorrow morning. And honestly, sometimes that is all I see. But not tonight.

Tonight I can see the family that I left in California this morning. Grandparents, aunts and uncles who all love me and are always ready to hear about my life, and tell me about their own lives. Cousins to play with, laugh with, and share life with. People and places that I love dearly; left in California, miles and miles from where I am.

I can see Mexico, too. Children living at the Casa Hogar. Children I spent so many hours with over the winter, some of whom have since left the Casa Hogar. Some of whom I may never see again. I see my friends; girls that I lived with this past winter. We laughed together, cried together, occasionally got upset together. Did life together. We saw the bad and the good that life brings, and somehow stuck together through both.

I’m thankful for a big-picture perspective, and the ability to see beyond what is right in front of my nose. Seeing more means more love, more friendship, and more growth. But it also means seeing more hurt, and that much more missing.

~Natalia

Missions Week Begins

11 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by nataliaria in God, Moody Bible Institute, Prayer, Still

It’s missions conference week here at Moody Bible Institute.

The opening session was this evening.

Two hours into the conference, and I could already type hundreds of words about the atmosphere, the speakers, the worship.

But I’m not going to.

At least not tonight.

Tonight, my heart is centered and still in Jesus Christ.

And I’m praying that it stays that way for a while.

~Natalia

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