walking daily in answered prayers.
months ago, youth had a discussion evening on the topic of ‘’answered prayers’’. all around the room, turns were taken to tell a time of answered prayers. i remember being inspired after that - hearing all the ways God showed His power through life's wobbles to lost wallets. He just cares so intentionally for His children. why do we forget this?
the topic of noticing answered prayers has been rooting in my heart ever since…
maybe so many of our daily moments are residue from answered prayers
dreams are funny things. they happen when one least expects it. and they are richer than one imagined.
leaning on the porch railing on a sunny september morning and letting the stillness be the only noise I hear.
opening the door to a coffee shop and the smell of coffee welcomes it’s customers.
youth seated, lining a flatbed trailer of hay bales, a classic tractor crunches gravel under the tires, as we bump down dirt roads.
“you wanna go antiquing on tuesday?”
“and go get doughnuts afterwards.”
drinking coffee with girls
in the sunshine seats at onyx.
a table of joy.
a night of creativity with the girls.
bring something to do.
our chairs curl around dining table.
we laugh and paint and hash and doodle and over drink on cups of hot chai.
comments rise about the moon.
we must see. with hot chai in hand we stand in the driveway and stare into the sky. a lil bite off the top of the moon displays the eclipse.
i smile. back in february when i came here i prayed in my journal that i could have soul-safe, intentional friendships here in gentry. and here i stand in awe of that answered prayer. This batch of youth girls have pulled up a chair in my heart, curled up with comfort, without a worry of overstaying. and i will smile everytime i see their faces.
steering the car around these curvy highways and smiling for i know I get to call this town home. this gas station is gonna be the place i’ll fill up for years now. that walmart will be the place I go for hangers and hashbrowns. that stop light i will continue to spot some of my favourite people at. that post office i will pay visits to. that dollar general someday may come in handy in tight pinches.
what a privilege to call this land and these humans home.
throwing a navajo blanket on dewy grass on a Tuesday night
under the moon, so full, so confident in its ability to shine.
and laying there, the sound of autumn on an arkansas night. cicadas zapping out their song.
i set down the phone and stare into the sky.
I realise something. every. single. time. I look into the sky, and let myself actually just stare into that vastness. I obviously think of heaven. and I just let myself breathe the grief deeper now than I have all day. it's appearing impossible to consider the depth of sky without considering grief simultaneously. I also realise. I'm okay with it. I no longer fight the fact grief is just IN me now.
last sunday the sermon gracefully etched heart wounds. it was about God’s mysteries. I saw tears and heard sniffles behind me as i wiped my own snot. ‘’How do you make sense out of the death of a young person?’’ the minister asked, and answered his own question by saying next, ‘’you don’t’’.
are we okay with the mystery of God?
can we trust the secret things belong to God?
we can rattle the gate or we can stand back in awe of God.
at our heels is death. that sounds morbid. but really, death is so close.
but is it actually that morbid?
Heaven. Heaven is just so so real. we just have no foggy idea how good Heaven is, and we whimper at the thought of our loved ones going there, yet it’s where they are experiencing such mature goodness. I remember wrestling with the thought of how grief can seem so selfish. perhaps i still wrestle with it. but i continuously keep coming back to the fact that grief is love. love is selfless.
im tired of young people dying. and then i feel reproved saying that. because am i saying i am tired of young people leaving this fragile earth and going to where all is complete? im tired or hearts ripping apart. but then again, hearts are being made whole when death happens...
i don't understand any of this. and that's ok.
I want to write. I don't want these days to slip by without being captured into ink. I cannot bear the thought of the sweetness of this season escaping my very favourite hobby - writing. I need to preserve these moments. I need to spend more time with an open journal and a closed door.
but.
I run. around. everywhere. all the time.
I see windshield wiper fluid needs added to the jetta as I plop all my stuff into its backseat thursday morning. and I know I'm running late already. cuz I split coffee on the rug upstairs. cuz I was running around and the mug was on the floor. not smart move i know. is 8:40 am and i’m already feeling frustrated I can't keep up with this day. I drive to school replying to texts the whole way. also not smart.
at school, I sit with the planner and unchecked work and half cut out saturday supper invites. and I feel the frustration settling in on me.
how can so much be done everyday and yet it seems that it does not make a dent into the todo pile?
planning a wedding is no joke. and i am starting to admit i’m not keeping it together as much as i wish i was.
I need to pray.
so i bow my head and do just that.
this moment. that's all God is asking me to face. so I water my plants. write the assignment on white board. send another text answering another question. sit still. for a moment. brush the eraser debri off the desk.
I’m just having a lil moment this morning. I know things will all turn out. And i still think wedding planning is enjoyable and i still know this is the happiest i’ve ever been and i still just feel so unworthy of all the pure goodness saturating this life.
this frustrating moment passes…
when i see the ranch girls literally running to this red and white schoolhouse and they stand at the door, all smiles. and wait for the go ahead to come inside. once inside, they sit down at their black desks and every time i look into their faces, and there are shared smiles and i feel my heart growing bigger. I enjoy this work.
a friend texts asking how I am
and I get to reply. I have so much joy in me I just may burst.
once in awhile I get to bed early enough and awake enough to capture the sweetness of this season in journal pages.
I don't want to be so busy with life that I don't take time to live.
I want a life that notices all the way God is trying to get our attention. all the ways he wants to spend quality time with us. all the ways He is brushing the ordinary with extraordinary. I want to notice.
rain clouds make this life all the more richer.
tears spill often. there is just hard stuff happening.
and this thing of how life being so joy filled as it is hard - I just will never ever get over that concept. it's real. and yet you would think that is not how it should be. and yet truly the more I let myself feel the ache of the world, the more brighter the joy flares. it sums up to be a God thing.
the happy. the hard. the holy.
all hanging out in the heart, together.
and answered prayers woven among it all.
sitting around the ranch table at lunch
stories and spuds are consumed
this all just feels so normal.
is it really true that in less than a month this table will be empty…
the porch swing will be still…
school desks will gather dust…
how can this be?
we discuss the end
daily
it's mentioned in some sort of way…
we all know it’s coming… everyday is closer…
yet
i think disbelief still lingers around every corner
now on this monday afternoon
behind the school desk
lukewarm coffee and open history lessons
and “Jesus please help me focus”
less than 3 weeks of this.
Lord, do not let us waste these last days.
♡
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