When it's Time to be a Mary

The pain in my heart breaks through to my mind. The ball of pain rides every wave, pinging every emotion. I delete post after post. Nothing is right. Nothing I can say or write is right. The pressure in my chest tightens. Where is air?

Shelli, what is wrong with you?

I long for my grandmother. 

When life gets tough, when I want to cry ... I want my grandmother. 

I can hear her laughter on the phone. I can see and feel and smell everything about her. White Shoulders. Her tiny Avon lipstick samples. Bengay. Pond's cold cream.

She was my go-to person all my life. And my vision clouds over with tears. I want to sit in her lap and hear her say, "No matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby." 

But she's in Heaven, and I'm here.

Father, I feel an incredible emptiness in my heart and head. Do you hear me? Do you understand? What can I do?

And I hear my Father say, "Shelli Ann, come sit with me."

My knees cap the ground.

"You've been a Martha far too long, trying to avoid feeling. Staying busy to avoid feeling. It's time for you to be a Mary. Come sit at my feet. Remain here. And feel. Cry. Want me. Long for me. Let me be your go-to person. I'm the only one who has ever filled that emptiness in your life, in your heart."

My hands touch His knees, and my tears drip to His feet. I wipe the dampness on His feet with the only thing I possess--my hair. My focus returns to His face.

"Don't you see? You're missing me. Come to me. See and feel everything about me. Because no matter how big you get, you'll always be my baby."

~~~

Do you become a Martha when you hurt? Do you stay busy to avoid feeling? Do you ever hear the Father's reminder to become a Mary?

Dear Mary

One sitting at those precious feet

That will never be taken away

One complaining, "Tell her to help me"

But at Jesus' feet you did stay.

You saw He raised your brother

Surely heard water turned to wine

You would saturate the feet of Jesus

There was no perfume too fine.

You sat at the feet of Jesus, Mary

The distractions weren't a care

You poured the oil on His precious feet

And wiped them with your hair.

When a dinner was given in Jesus' honor

You let Him graciously pick up the bill

When others would scold, He said, "Leave her alone"

And your house He did fragrantly fill.

Mary, Mary, you chose the best

As Jesus would lovingly side

Because you knew in your heart, Dear Mary

Jesus would always provide.

- by Shelli Littleton (copyright 2013)

Dear Martha

One sitting at those precious feet

Listening to Jesus sharing

One is steadily working

Accusing Him of not caring.

You saw He raised your brother

Surely heard water turned to wine

Saturate the feet of Jesus, Martha

Is there a perfume too fine?

Sit at the feet of Jesus, Martha

The distractions will be okay

Emulate Mary; do the best thing

"It will not be taken away."

When giving a dinner in Jesus' honor

Let Him graciously pick up the bill

Take off those shoes; recline with Him

And your house He will fragrantly fill.

"Martha, Martha, 'Only one thing is needed,'"

Jesus would lovingly chide

Didn't you know by now, Dear Martha

That Jesus would always provide?

- by Shelli Littleton (copyright 2013)