God continues to knock my socks off. I mean really, He is something so big that when I try to fathom it, I get dizzy. Perhaps because it doesn’t seem really real to me…
Oh we make plans and have ideas. And then He treads upon them, at first, softly crunching them like the dry twigs that carpet the forest floor. So then we pray for our hearts’ very desire to be in perfect line with His will for us.
Now, listen. Do you hear it? Our ways are breaking beneath His weight as He turns that wooded path toward Him.
Alas, do you see it? The overgrown trees give way to a lush, mountainside meadow.
And that thunder-like cracking sound? That is the sound of His way bursting forth as our hearts simultaneously accept the map in His hands.
Again, yet again, we are at a place where we must give God the opportunity and space to move in our lives. And perhaps, just perhaps, a chance for Him to move us. Again, yet again.
But my heart says, “I am made for roots to seek nourishment deep. I am not made for nomadic life. I am made for relationships that blossom time and again, season after season. Where I can touch them, and water them, and see them and smell them.”
Oh, I see, I am made for God. He is my soil. He is my suitcase. He is my garden.
I will grow and go and bloom where I am planted.
Early this morning, with tears still wet on my face and doubts and fears still hot in my heart, I flipped my daily devotional reading and found this gift:
“A teardrop on earth summons the King in Heaven.”
Oh yeah. He is good. He is so good. I reckon his giant-sized, red, high-alert, emergency-status phone was a ringing loud and shrill this morning as I wept and wondered and worried. Instead of shaking His head and saying, “Oh, it’s that girl again. Can’t she get a grip?” I know He said, “Thank heavens my daughter is calling me. She hasn’t used her calling card of tears for months. She has been stuffing it deep down. I am so glad the dam broke this morning and she summoned me with those wonderfully wet tears. So very glad.”
And you know how else He knocked my socks off? Yesterday I was gifted with the voice and sincerity and encouragement and kindness of a long-known, but never-spoken-aloud-to friend. She wrapped me in a telephone wire hug and blessed me with a prayer. We laughed over our shared feelings of being the village idiot and shared secrets of chipped nail polish and pajama-wearing until well-past noon. That long-distance conversation was really real to me.
How has God delivered a gift for you at just the right time? Has He been doing it all along, but you just haven’t noticed — because you are more concerned with the wrapping paper, rather than the most really wonderful gift inside?
After calming my heart and drying my tears with His Word and Truth, I wrote this little ditty. No, not for Jack and Diane, but for the High Calling poetry challenge: Take us to an ancient place. Egypt, China, India, Rome, Greece. Research a little if you really want transport your readers.
Although I am quite sure that nobody will come away feeling beamed-up or otherwise transported, here is my heart-penciled offering from this morning.
His feet trod in places
only real in His Word
but not really real to me.
For I have never even
been on an airplane,
and foreign sights, I have yet to see…
Capernaum, the Sea of Galilee,
places where He performed many a miracle
and even set His resurrected Self upon a road to be seen.
Although my tear-stained face
has never dripped right into the hands
of the Mediterranean Sea,
Nor has my heart bled & cried & yearned
on that spot of Gethsamane where with a cheeky kiss He was betrayed,
for the wretched sins of this girl named Darlene.
Even though my feet have not touched down
on the very ground
of my King,
my Lord, and my Saviour
knew all of this as He was nailed to the tree.
For daily He trods in my heart and steps deep
making straight out of the crooked,
and giving me His eyes from which to see…
His Word is real
and He lives right here in my very soul,
Day after day, proving He is really real to me.
* daily flip calendar teardrop quote above:
“The Grace of Encouragement”
by Charles Swindoll;
* And if you should desire some additional prose from this week, please scroll down to my last post or click here. Poetry wrapped into a botany lesson and a morning kiss…