I asked you to show me how to be vulnerable. I longed to have clenched and dry places eased open, released to be real and raw and that would be okay. Because I never want to be able to pre-empt the depth of outrageous Grace. I trust that it will always rise and always be enough. But this is uncomfortable. I will dig my heels in, and wait.
It’s so much better here on the ground,
Where the morning light tastes like asphalt and swing set rust
– Mindy Nettifee
Because I know that each moment is a gift, even when it doesn’t feel that way.
Holy. Ordinary. Grace.
From down here in the asphalt, the rusty squeak of the swing set echoes of the slipping away and shadows. Continues its tuneless dirge empty of apology and achingly oblivious to its ordinariness. It’s no new story.
But I long to say yes. I will wait to hear the grace interwoven with this tune until it is a metronome – a mere skeleton to the rich song of the Holy Fulfilling.
Eucharisteo. And there it comes in the morning without fail. Chara…Joy.
How You let your side be ripped open that our lives need never be split into sacred and secular.
How you were slashed that our lives could be seamless — all holy.
I see you.
Your curve of your mouth, the light in your eyes – and the grey
The restlessness of your feet
The ache of longing in your heart rendered by
That place where joy unspeakable meets not yet. Already.
But not yet.
Taste! And see that I am good.
Touch this here, taste this sweet honey, listen to my voice – weighed deep and still.
Count each blessing, inscribe on your heart and with each carve the yawning gap of not yet is imbued with the hue of the already. There is a now to this moment. Touch it! Taste!
And watch as I breathe on your eyes and cobwebs fall. I will show you a third heaven and you will know it is Me.
I will put a new song in your mouth – ‘Come and see!’, and they will come for it is I, and I, and I and I simply am.
But stay a while. For this place is just for you and I too. So stay a while.
I see your smile, your restless feet, your aching heart. Don’ think it escaped my n0tice – I will tell you in a crowded room through the touch of a hand unfamiliar.
And here is enough. Take this with you, friend.