I didn’t receive Holy Experience in my feeder for a week. It took a week of silence- before I finally made my way to the actual site and discovered the blog host had changed and it was no longer feeding into my reader. I was amazed at how I missed those posts. I was stunned by the “shock” I felt- at suddenly- with no word, being left silent.
I was more amazed by how much this gratitude journal is already changing me from the inside out. Finding God in the real, in the every day, in this earth, and with these flesh, in this place… it is like a river of peace and beauty and grace. And it is a balm for my soul.
And it is…. Real.
Pansies picking up their bright faces after being brow beaten by the rains. They are nestled well. The columbine are settled too- and I can’t wait for their blooms.
Walking up the driveway with a friend and I am stunned by shadows swirling in the sun across our path, our feet. I look up and leaves have just- sprung free, twirling in golden masses. The trees are soon to shake utterly free, their final glory, and now is the time when they fall in masses twirling, and we catch them in our hands.
Shadows are lengthening. Tall birch trees stretch straight- and I notice long shadows stretch black against a mountain hillside. A dark pattern in bright sunlight.
I drive down the road and start to see things I haven’t seen before- or haven’t seen for a year. That house was there? What is up that hill? The gentle leaves no longer cloak and hide. Surround and shield. The landscape changes.
I hang a wind chime. It sings gently.
A sweet friend here- with whom I feel- entirely myself. Sometimes sorrows temper the spirit and the deep, golden fruit wells bountiful. In that heart, there is a feast, although all around trials purify and refine.
And she- she enters my home and utters… beautiful. And I am so touched- because I sense… I know- that she is responding to what the Lord Himself is working in my heart that I am trying to flesh out in this place. It ministers … so much to me. And I remember it long. And I remember to be thankful…. For all that I have. These Endless Gifts.
A beautiful piece of Scripture artwork that is now gracing my counter with precious lambs feasting in a green pasture… and part of the 23rd Psalm… and it says- He restores my soul… And I soak, soak deep in those words. He is my Shepherd. I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul. And He is… He is- restoring this soul… in this place.
And I tell Todd-(in so many words) I am that sheep and I need to feast on the greenness in my own pasture- and not concern myself with where I am “supposed” to be, where I am going, and what kind of grass I should be eating.
To humble myself- learn meekness (which is a post brewing, brewing for another time) and feast contentedly in this pasture. He leads me…
The familiarity and sweet routine of family bible. It is good to be together. That rhythm should stay strong. Too many nights missed and … there is an emptiness.