“Look around,” I hear Him whisper. “You have come so far…and yet, there is still so much more to come!”
From the lookout I see the city, the sea, and the mountains, and I ponder how the earth is round even though it looks like it ends at the skyline. The water is so blue, a shade much too alive to be simply called blue. I close my eyes and reopen them, trying to see the view and truly comprehend its beauty. I remember the first time I saw the ocean and I had looked at it with fresh eyes, full of wonder and enchantment.
He brings my mind back to earlier days, when I was a hurting insecure girl with a soul too old for her body, and even in my humble beginnings He was faithful to redeem my life.
“Look where you came from,” He says gently, “And look where I am going to take you.”
Back and forth my mind skips, reliving pivotal moments of His faithfullness and imagining future visions of His glory. My breath is caught in a rhythm of future and past, reflection and anticipation – all simultaneously wrapped up in a moment.
A smile plays on my lips and I’m loving the magic of the moment. Perhaps the longer I linger on this park bench, the longer the magic will last?
It’s been a long time since words came easily. I still write, I just haven’t been writing well, and isn’t that annoying? I feel like an artist whose brushes are frayed, and even though he may still paint, the results are less than lovely.
I think part of my inability to craft thoughts into words has to do with the fact that I am seeing, hearing, and feeling so much that I can’t possibly describe it all. Living here is about the strangest and most beautiful thing I’ve ever done in my life, and all the while I keep shifting and growing so nothing feels like it stays the same for long.
I guess I’m processing things, and I’m growing as I do so, but narrowing it down is hard.
This word describes how I feel:
Translucent: Allowing light, but not detailed images, to pass through.
That’s how my vision of the world feels right now. It’s like I’m looking through a foggy window. I can see shapes and lights and colours, but I can’t describe them well. I can see light; I can see the beginnings of things and the promise of things, but I can’t quite put my finger on the details of it all.
I see God working in a hundred different ways. His light shines in the love and joy I feel, and His light also breaks through the pain and hurt I see.
The revalations from the park bench? That was a moment with God, time where He met me and showed me His light, and He does it in so many wonderful ways!
There. I wrote something not half bad. I guess that’s a start.