The Mailbox Is Full

Are you one of those whose voice mailbox is always full? People call your number only to receive the automated voice which says, “I’m sorry the voice mailbox is full and cannot receive any more messages.” I know, those of you who know me personally are chuckling right about now. Sometimes I am the world’s worst about cleaning out my mailbox. (#sorrynotsorry). My problem is being a keeper of too many memories, but that’s another story for another day…

Regardless of the reasons for a full voicemail, having one full inhibits a new message from getting through. Having a full mailbox causes a backup, a blockage, a hindrance of something new or something important being delivered to you. People have to recall, send a text or try to remember to give you the message upon the next time seeing you. This method isn’t very helpful, and it can definitely pose a problem in the case of an emergency or an important moment of contact when missed.

This made me start thinking of when God is trying to get “a message” to us. Sometimes, our minds are full of so much clutter that we can’t hear truth. The volume in our head is too loud. Our thoughts overrun whatever message He is trying to send, because we never shut them off. We never make time to just be still and listen.

Sometimes, our imagination is at such a high that it causes the volume in our head to be too low. Our daydreaming has become so unruly that we constantly live in a “happy place of nothingness,” and we miss His message, because we’re not connected to the moment when He speaks. We miss an opportunity, a person of influence or a moment of impact, because we are never present where we are.

I don’t know about you, but I want God to be able to get through to me at anytime, night or day. I want to be so in tune to His voice that no matter what is going on, where I am, or who I am with, He is able to speak, and I immediately hear. I want to be free from clutter, and I want to be living in each moment of every day, never leaving anything to chance.

Lord, help me to clean up my “mailbox”; so, I can clearly hear Your voice. Help me to turn the volume down in my head when it gets too loud by walking out into the woods or standing beside a waterfall to remind me of who You are and who I am not. Help me to turn up the volume in my head when I am distracted by the void of nothingness. Always remind me to live fully in every moment You give me, for I never know when it might be the last for me or someone I love. Let my life be of impact to those around me, because I am in tune with You, and I know when You speak.

 

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The Empty Chair

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It stands alone. If you look at it for very long, you might determine it’s lonely; however, it’s made to bring comfort to the weary traveler, and it does its job very well. It may be an elderly woman who just needed a quick rest before finishing her walk back to her room. It may be the young, new mom who tries desperately to get her newborn back to sleep. It may be the young teen who kicks back to watch the game, only to find his favorite team didn’t fair too great today. It may be the bench upon which the newlyweds pose for the pictures of their new life together. The chair can provide so many comforts.
Or maybe it has a more pragmatic approach today…the husband grabs it to stand upon while replacing the bulb overhead. The grandmother uses it to reach the box at the top of the closet, you know, the one with the pretty shoes for that special occasion. The children silently move it over to obtain the hidden cookies in the cabinet that mom thought she had secretly hid. The friend slides it back to be there for her ‘bestie’ who just suffered a breakup. The chair can serve in so many practical ways.
Or maybe it’s there for a more elite purpose, for appearance sake…the studio bought it for the upcoming celebrity shots and publicity showing. The antique store bought it to draw in a crowd, desiring top dollar at the next auction. The millionaire bought it to complement his prestigious office, never to be sat upon, of course, only for lust and desire. The chair can serve such audacious purposes.
Yet, did you ever wonder who was once there? Was it a frightened young girl who crawled up in her Daddy’s arms to chase away the storm? Was it a teenage girl longing for a tan to turn a few heads, never realizing she’s beautiful even without the change? Maybe it was the new mom who just laid her baby down but needs to stay just a moment longer to watch him breathe and assure her beating heart that he will awake in the mourn. Maybe it was the returning hero who left too much in the war but is overwhelmed by the love and applause he receives while arriving home. Maybe it was the elderly man who used to watch his wife as she kissed him goodnight, but now, he sits all alone reminiscing of years gone by.
The chair can tell us so many things yet leave so many stories untold. Often, when you see a chair and its owner resting in the same place, over time, they seem to mold to one another’s character. When he or she leaves that place, the chair seems to be missing a valuable part of life; sometimes, it even seems to sag without its owner’s presence. Could it possibly have elated feelings, and maybe even a sigh of relief, when the owner returns from too long of a vacation or an extended walk upon the beach? … Have you ever wondered when you see an empty chair?

The Will

     An empty daughter of depression, with a strong temper and a determined will, she traveled all her life in search of her true inheritance.  She had lost her mother as an infant, and her father at the age of seven.  Somehow, she fell through the cracks of the state system, and she grew up on the rough side of town, going from place to place, one gang to another just to survive.  She would steal for them, make distractions for them, and even turn tricks for them; anything they told her, she would do. This lifestyle made her tough, a rebel from the darker side of town; yet, she hated this life.  She knew there had to be more.  She wanted a purpose in her life, a reason to love, a reason to hate, a reason to live.

     She finally left her gang, at the age of seventeen, determined to find a better place and a new life for herself.  She remembered her father telling her stories of his past and of her mother. He had told her of a rich heritage, lots of wealth and success; however, each of them had been disowned, because they were determined to marry outside the families’ prestigious arrangements. The young girl thought, maybe, perhaps, a chance meeting would make the difference for her………

 

Penned – MG – began 1/15/90