The smell of hot pavement at night and a clear night sky that reminds me that I am small and You are not. The gift of prayer. Idols make us waste away and shrink-wrap our lives and blur our vision, jealousy hurts our bones, neglecting to call family creates even more distance, the width of our knowledge of you says nothing of the depth, and the moment we become proud, feeling like we've finally arrived at the end of a long trial, it sneaks back up on us.
Yet, despite all of the sickness of my heart that you're showing me, I know you're at work for good and you never change and you are all-powerful and holy. I am your daughter.
Warm milk and table talk with Christina tonight. Talked about worship, honesty, family, resentment, missions, fear, read Spurgeon's evening devotional and pondered time.
One of those rare moments in which we stand outside of ourselves and marvel that we are living, breathing, moving, here. Time and space are real, but you've set eternity in our hearts. "Soon we'll be with Him," I said, and we were both completely silent for one long moment. "That was real sweet," she said, laughing. It's true. Soon and very soon. And it's so sad and so joyous at once. The world just keeps on spinning and we just keep getting older, but every day, your mercies are new and you call us to come closer. Great is your faithfulness.
No comments:
Post a Comment