Sunday, April 10, 2011

Late to Lent: Days 27-28

to start at the beginning

Day Twenty-Seven

Sinuses on fire
Icky icky ick
Colds suck
Kicking myself for not being able to meet the day’s obligations


Slowed down by Divine allowance
In His care even now
Cherishing my health through the temporary diminishing
Knowing this too shall pass


in other news

the blue,

the green

and the white are back.

My favorite colors


across the world.

Day Twenty-eight

All eyes; this journey which I frankly thought would be about my mouth, has been all about my eyes. How do I see life, how do I see Him, how do I see me. I sit in my favorite chair, the old reclining love seat in the open, airy living room, the one with a view to my distressed white Drexel Heritage chairs (still in process), the roses and grapevine in our garden and the glorious mountains beyond. Hair, still dripping, tied up in clips; I pull out the tools of my morning warfare. First, I record a quick gift that I received a few days ago but only saw this morning: a phone call to Target customer service, an operator beaten by words with a pounding headache answering, a chance to make amends in absentia to all of the customer service reps I have self-centeredly bullied when life was not going my way, forgiveness received and the joy of her headache healed. I go to open Ann’s book but keep finding my Bible in my hands. This happens several times before I notice; here in the Word must be where I’m supposed to start. I have been reading through the Gospels but the book covered in the soft teal print-a banner gone wrong recycled by a church in Cambodia, then sold to my BFF who gave it to me-falls open to the heading Moses Blesses Israel on the Plains of Moab. And I halt to stare, really paying attention now.

I may have shared here, or it may have been in comments on some other blog, maybe even yours, that since graduating college over ten years ago my life has been a journey through the wilderness. That’s not to say it has been all bad, or heartbreaking or a perfect graveyard of buried hopes, though I have thought that a time or two. It has simply been wilderness: slightly barren, wild and unpredictable, traveling, never quite reaching a place to establish or build, full of fears and flaws faced and always this sense of having to follow Him closely because on my own I am completely lost. The first Sunday of the year I sang on the worship team. We had just rocked Desert Song when my pastor asked what season are you in. I asked the Lord the same question. To my eyes the wilderness all looks kind of the same. I don’t have the ability to pick up the subtle landmarks. In response I saw the children of Israel camped at some sort of oasis on the edge of the Promised Land. I went home and began reading that the last stop before leaving the wilderness was the Plains of Moab. And this, He said, is where I am now camped.  So while I don’t usually prescribe to the falling open bible study plan, today I begin to read. And I stumble over this verse, tripping headlong, trying to jump ahead but it has firmly caught me.
Moses called all Israel together and said, You’ve seen with your own eyes everything that God did in Egypt to Pharaoh, and his servants, and to the land itself-the massive trials to which you were eyewitnesses, the great signs and miracle-wonders. But God didn’t give you an understanding heart or perceptive eyes or attentive ears until right now, this very day. Deuteronomy 29: 2-4 MSG
But God didn’t give. God didn’t. These perceptive eyes I am trying to develop, even they are a gift from Him. I can not manufacture this although I can refuse. It is His Spirit working within me, deeply and gently. Ephesians 3:20 MSG Then I read Ann and weep as she describes the world she sees through God-given eyes, the stark beauty of the shared humanity between a farmer’s wife and a homeless recovering crack addict. Those eyes to see more of who He is will also allow me to see Him in those it is easiest to not see at all. These eyes, these I want. These I need.
Blog Med Sig 4


Squiggly Rainbow said...

Blessings to you Songbird, what a gift His sky is to us - we are getting deep into Autumn here - cosy and restful for now. I know come September I will be so joyous for Springtime!

I am glad you found me and now I have found you!

Rach xo

happygirl said...

Feel better Joybird. I love the blue and green, as well. And, the questions you ask are mine as well

Kath said...

Thanks for these beautiful photos and your thoughts on the eyes that really see.
Bless you,

Abby said...

Joybird, I am sorry I don't have time to read here, but HAD to come and say thank you for reading the beginning of Our Story @ Fan the Flame and THANK YOU for your sweet, sincere comments. I think you remember the story of my mom through the piece I had posted at (in)courage as your own story rang a bell for me too.

We are travelling, raising support, in preparation to move to Hungary. We've been sharing about your documentary findings that you commented about, a little:) God is touching many internet time is limited--but had to jot you this quick note now! bless you, friend:)

Jodi said...

I so do appreciate what God gives you here to share. Your insight is much appreciated.

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