A dove’s cry awoke me for the sunrise. My mind drifted back to a time earlier in the week when I heard a friend read aloud to me…“he sent the dove out from the ark. Then the dove came to him in the evening, and behold, a freshly plucked olive leaf was in her mouth; and Noah knew that the waters had receded from the earth.” *
Listening to the cooing I closed my eyes imagining this scene from the past. Within moments I was reminded to look outside. The past had been written so I could live in the promise of today with the hope of all tomorrow.
* Gen 8:10b-11
I walked in the new direction. At times my steps felt heavy, my legs sore from pushing through for a new path. In my weariness I stopped for a moment to gather my breath. Looking ahead for what I could not see, I wondered. I put my face into my palms, wiping my brow. The whisper of discouragement tried to worm its way into my ears. Anger rose up within. Tilting my head back I screamed at the top of my lungs…
Lord, I cry out to You;
Make haste to me!
Give ear to my voice when I cry out to You.
Let my prayer be set before You as incense,
The lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice
Set a guard, O Lord, over my mouth;
Keep watch over the door of my lips.
Do not incline my heart to any evil thing,
To practice wicked works
With men who work iniquity;
And do not let me eat of their delicacies.
Let the righteous strike me;
It shall be a kindness.
And let him rebuke me;
It shall be as excellent oil;
Let my head not refuse it.
For still my prayer is against the deeds of the wicked.
Their judges are overthrown by the sides of the cliff,
And they hear my words, for they are sweet.
Our bones are scattered at the mouth of the grave,
As when one plows and breaks up the earth.
But my eyes are upon You, O GOD the Lord;
In You I take refuge;
Do not leave my soul destitute.
Keep me from the snares they have laid for me,
And from the traps of the workers of iniquity.
Let the wicked fall into their own nets,
While I escape safely. *
* Psalm 141
I tiptoed amongst the flowers hoping I’d not crush a one. Their colors were so radiant and the scent was like nothing I’d ever smelled before. The meadow stretched beyond the ability of my eyes to see. I longed to drop down and roll so as to cover myself in their beauty and essence. Stopping in my tracks I breathed deep of the moment. Looking down upon myself I realized I too wore the beauty and essence I longed to be amongst.
For a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of the whole picture but when I turned to look closer it had shattered into thousands of puzzle pieces. I tried to remember what I had seen when the image began to fade into something I could only hope it to be. One by one I began collecting the pieces of my hope, putting each inside my heart. My Father knows how much I love puzzles.
My agenda is one I have planned well. All my notes are perfect and my thoughts for how it needs to go are in alignment with those who agree with my thinking. My calendar is set for what I want to do. I take a deep sigh of comfort knowing the day will go well for me.
The day arrives but something is amiss. The calendar has been changed. The people of alignment have been moved elsewhere. The comfort of my flesh is no longer present. I take a deep sigh in discomfort and pray the day will go well for HIM.
All is as it should be once more, HIM, not me.
A bass rhythm echoed through every structure around her. The music seemed deafeningly loud and the crowd was huge. She tried to find open spaces to walk so as to keep moving toward where she was to go. The press of bodies felt as if they were a living wall. Her shoulders became sore with the constant bumping and nudging. She knew she was moving against the flow. Occasionally she could hear derision and ridicule from those who didn’t understand why she was walking in the opposite direction. Determination set her face like flint, cutting through the sea of people. While the loud beat of the world sounded all around her, she could still hear a quiet voice drawing her into the concert for eternity. With each step she knew she was getting closer to the real song.
Historical books can bring us understanding regarding successes but also failures. To read these chronicles takes an eye for seeing the whole picture. I can love history, but it will never change my life until I can learn from it every lesson to be had.
The little girl hid within the woman’s heart, peeking out now and again to see if the world had changed. This was her home and she liked wandering through the different chambers to feel warmth and love. Now and again she sensed the pain of arrows trying to lodge themselves in the walls. Diligently she’d pry them out to throw them aside. Rubbing the wounds with her tiny hands she’d whisper, “you are loved” until the healing came.
With every conversation I felt as though more and more of myself was left behind. No matter how many words used it seemed as though nothing was really said. Eventually I stopped talking. I wanted to save the breath that I had. My love needed no more words. Eyes closed I listened; a sentence spoken by a friend came to mind…”I wish I could have added more to your life than I took away“. Sage wisdom I wanted to live out.
I lay upon chairs hearing voices around me. Words did not matter; it was enough to feel hearts. Love was in this room and I soaked in its presence.