Friday, August 3, 2012

the art of waiting

In a room bursting with people my mind wanders. Struggling, I fight back the sting of tears. If even one liquid drop escapes the barricade we're going to have a monsoon. Not here, not now. But, why God? When, God? Why??? 


Like the stillness experienced under the canopy parachute 5,000 feet above the earth. Heavy. Real. Magnificent. You are. I wanted to scream at your beauty, your creation, but was silenced by the awe. Your height, your depth captures me, your attention to detail inspires me, your love envelopes me. Not dead, but alive am I--alive. Inhale. Exhale.

This wait is different. Stillness is not required but service--waiting on. Bending. Kneeling. Stooping. Realizing the lower I go the greater you become. That the act of putting others' needs before my own is supernatural. A spiritual act of worship. When my attentions are on others and less focused on me, my wants, my desires. You know. You care. My hairs are numbered, my tears are bottled. Your promises remain true.

Along with the breathtaking sunsets, the surprise rainbows, the shooting stars that hug my heart I say thank you, too, for this. Your thoughts are higher. With every breath I say yes. Giving you thanks. You know. You see. You are.

Selah.