Friday, December 30, 2016

And Yellow decided to risk for a butterfly.

Satisfy us by Your lovingkindness in the morning; so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life. Psalm 90:14

And this morning is still. Two candles are lit. The gas heater flickers silently. Everette is still. Still nestled in the big Nicole Indonesian comforter after her Thursday night sleepover.

And my heart is still. At rest. For the moment full up in His lovingkindness.

For the moment my eyes are fixed on Him and His faithful goodness.

But we are frail. This morning’s refrain echoes it over and over again, Remember, LORD, how frail You have made all flesh.

One of last night’s bedtime stories choices, after E. picked Tolstoy’s Papa Panav and The Wheels on the Bus yet one more time, was this year’s Cameron’s Christmas gift, Hope for the Flowers.

And it is the perfect bedtime story, as it traces the brokenness of all of our own attempts to satisfy the nameless longing in our hearts. And it is only through the total release of dying to all that I am, letting go of everything, wrapped up in the chrysalis of His redemption and His alone, that I will emerge beautiful in the truth of belovedness.


Truth to set the stage for dreams.


And Wednesday night’s AME bible study, in the small trailer down the street, finished up Philippians, savoring the very words the eight-year-old me claimed as her life verses, the very week that man first walked on the moon, a long time ago. Don't worry about anything; instead pray about everything, and don’t forget to thank Him for His answers. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. The Big Fat Green Puffy Living Bible.

Rejoice. I say it again, rejoice.

Selah.