Sinuses on fire
Icky icky ick
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
and the white are back.
My favorite colors
across the world.
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.