Walking slowly through the backyard, the grass seems to be a brighter hue as the warm earth, softened by rain, gives way ever so slightly to my sandaled feet. I carry the sunflowers, given to me by a woman who sells them, to the compost pile as their yellow petals are now shriveled, threatening to come undone all over the living room floor. It is in this nondescript act that I suddenly feel as though God is near.
I don't wake you up at 3 a.m. anymore.
That is the message I hear in my heart. Even though there was a long stretch of time in which I would awaken at 3 a.m. to avail myself to this divinely appointed meeting time, I just now realize that this is no longer happening.
I cannot remember the last time I woke up at 3 a.m.
Contemplating this, I wonder if God is giving up on me. Maybe after all of those attempts to get my attention and put faces and names in my mind so I would pray for them, I did not do as much as I could have. But prayer is relaxing. It helps one to go to sleep. When one is awakened to pray, it cannot last long before one tired woman is transported back to dreamland.
Another thought formulates, before I take myself too far afield.
What if God does not need to interrupt my sleep by inviting me to meet with him at 3 a.m. because I am more able now to meet with him at other times during my waking hours?
As I awaken and sit in front of the window with my coffee, listening to the sweet Irish voices on my online devotional speak to me of Scriptures and offer invitations to talk to Jesus as if he were sitting right beside me, my heart opens. I read, pray, and allow whatever I find in the way of inspirational words and art to represent my day in my posts. I try to listen for what my spirit needs to hear in order to learn more about love.
When I run my dog on a path through woods at the park, I think about the canopy of leaves overhead catching my prayers that I am offering as they hang high above like shiny little prayer flags, waving joyfully in the sun. Around me the birds sing out their prayers, harmonizing with one another; the locusts chirp theirs in unison.
The parts of my life requiring counsel and prayer have been resolving slowly, like brown sugar melting into butter before it cooks down to become frosting for brownies. My life is reintegrating, gathering together the broken fragments and fitting itself back together in a whole and healthy way. Though the scale betrays me, I feel lighter in spirit. Lighter than I have in quite awhile.
What if this is what I was referring to in a recent blog in which I vowed to hold my current pain with compassion until it was ready to go? What if on this warm summer day when I have had nothing on my calendar except to enjoy a leisurely afternoon of reading, now writing, and resting, that whatever has been weighing me down has chosen this day to fly away?
Higher and higher, it starts out as heavy flapping wings of some sort of flying creature straining to gain altitude, transforming mysteriously into thinner and lighter butterfly wings silently flitting from tree to tree until with a brief flourish of color, it disappears altogether.
I stand in awesome wonder.
I don't wake you up at 3 a.m. anymore.
That is the message I hear in my heart. Even though there was a long stretch of time in which I would awaken at 3 a.m. to avail myself to this divinely appointed meeting time, I just now realize that this is no longer happening.
I cannot remember the last time I woke up at 3 a.m.
Contemplating this, I wonder if God is giving up on me. Maybe after all of those attempts to get my attention and put faces and names in my mind so I would pray for them, I did not do as much as I could have. But prayer is relaxing. It helps one to go to sleep. When one is awakened to pray, it cannot last long before one tired woman is transported back to dreamland.
Another thought formulates, before I take myself too far afield.
What if God does not need to interrupt my sleep by inviting me to meet with him at 3 a.m. because I am more able now to meet with him at other times during my waking hours?
As I awaken and sit in front of the window with my coffee, listening to the sweet Irish voices on my online devotional speak to me of Scriptures and offer invitations to talk to Jesus as if he were sitting right beside me, my heart opens. I read, pray, and allow whatever I find in the way of inspirational words and art to represent my day in my posts. I try to listen for what my spirit needs to hear in order to learn more about love.
When I run my dog on a path through woods at the park, I think about the canopy of leaves overhead catching my prayers that I am offering as they hang high above like shiny little prayer flags, waving joyfully in the sun. Around me the birds sing out their prayers, harmonizing with one another; the locusts chirp theirs in unison.
The parts of my life requiring counsel and prayer have been resolving slowly, like brown sugar melting into butter before it cooks down to become frosting for brownies. My life is reintegrating, gathering together the broken fragments and fitting itself back together in a whole and healthy way. Though the scale betrays me, I feel lighter in spirit. Lighter than I have in quite awhile.
What if this is what I was referring to in a recent blog in which I vowed to hold my current pain with compassion until it was ready to go? What if on this warm summer day when I have had nothing on my calendar except to enjoy a leisurely afternoon of reading, now writing, and resting, that whatever has been weighing me down has chosen this day to fly away?
Higher and higher, it starts out as heavy flapping wings of some sort of flying creature straining to gain altitude, transforming mysteriously into thinner and lighter butterfly wings silently flitting from tree to tree until with a brief flourish of color, it disappears altogether.
I stand in awesome wonder.
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