I yearn for time to sit and listen and think. Often it comes for me in the late hours when the rest of my household is asleep. Even then it’s like digging, sifting through mental snapshots of the day, daring to peel back the layers of heart and mind, searching for God and His Truth to gather me.
So much has been going on these days I cannot begin to tell it.
I want to wrap it up neatly in a coherent blog post, but there are a too many disjointed thoughts. Maybe one day I’ll look back and see how all the pieces fit, but for now I want to be faithful in just handing them over to the Mender of the Soul. I’ve looked to others to make me whole, but only God can. I believe that now.
Some of my pieces He’s tending:
“the humility that comes from wisdom”: a phrase from James 3. How do I live wise? I don’t know what to think, how to act, where to go from here. But pure wisdom has a meekness to it.
free, finally: I saw a kite the other day. Stuck high up in a tree, a hopeless torn and twisted mess. But a whisper in the wind: no place too high, no place too low He can’t reach. No mess too big He can’t untangle. No brokenness of heart He cannot bind.
imagining home home: Hope and I were listening to the song “I Can Only Imagine” by MercyMe. It’s an old hit by now but it still stirs something in me. Taking the lyrics of the song I asked Hope what she thought she would do when she saw the Lord face to face, when His glory and grace enveloped her. Would she stand still in awe? Would she sing ‘Hallelujah’? Would she dance for Jesus? Would she be able to speak at all? She said she thinks she won’t be able to speak at all. Which is really something. For Hope to be speechless. And then, she said, she’d definitely dance for Him. She asked me what I would do on that Day. I told her I didn’t know, but I think I’ll fall to my knees. And probably weep joy. And if I can say anything it will be, with everything I have, only, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”