As I sit here scooping spoonfuls of Peanut Butter into my mouth after an exhausting 20-minute run, I have two things on my mind. One, I could really use a shower and two, I could really use a glass of milk.
Random thoughts… maybe… however they struck the cord of why I had decided to go for a run in the first place.
Health? Not quite…
Let’s try frustrative-release.
Is that a thing?
It’s a thing for me and my mental health!
You see, the past two weeks, while on Christmas break, I moved apartments, worked 40 hours and had absolutely 30 minutes of alone time with the Creator of this mover and shaker. Something is wrong with this picture… How am I not crazy, bonkers, utterly driven mad?
Well, if you had witnessed my midnight run I just took, you’d know that I was driven bonkers, I just contained it well.
The type human being I am, when life throughs on the heaviest of loads on this pack mule and I have nothing but uphill mountains to truck up, I grow very still and quiet. Just as the spirit man grows quiet when we are not marinating it in the Word of God, Ashlee grows quiet when she is not marinating in the Word of God. So… I took a run. I had taken all I could!
Collapsing in the “big yellow thinking” chair in my new apartment, I broke out the old prayer journal and began scribbling out the happenings and emotional cyclone I had put myself through over the past two weeks. I began noticing a pattern and suddenly grew very angry with myself for allowing this.. this… this THING to encamp itself around and suffocate the fire of my soul.
The words fear and death sank in REAL deep as I re-read my mere 10-page journal entry. Fear and death? Fear? Death? What? How?
As we are approaching a new year of opportunities, my church likes to start the new year off with 21 days of prayer and fasting. This basically looks like seeking the Lord about the upcoming year for the first 21 days of the new year.
Now a back story on the past (2) 21 days of prayer and Fasting for Ashlee have included audible answers to pressing and life altering questions.
Without really realizing it, my spirit was remembering this audacious and radical happening that occurred in 2015 and 2016.
Thus allowing fear to creep ever-so-slowly into my heart and take captive every good promise of peace stored in my mind from the Good Book.
Death tightened its grip on the throat of my dreams disrupting the ability to voice the passions and purpose of my very creation.
Let’s just say, the realization of this having happened to me was very shocking.
A pending question tapped on my heart…
“When the assaulter of His promises seeks you and finds you, will he find a breathless feeble man cowarding behind their purpose? Or will he find a fresh air filled pair of lungs, a force standing in the field of the fruit of fulfilled promises reaped through the dutiful sowing and pursuit of the Maker’s purpose for crafting them?”
What’s it going to be House?