Somewhere…there was a perfect time and place

Somewhere there was the perfect time and place.  She convinced herself of that.  Clung to it.  Watched that thought threaten to slip through her fingers and fall like so many drops of water.  She was ashamed of herself for holding onto that dream.  Scolded herself for it, but when the morning sun rose, the hope would rise inside her right along with the golden glory.  All day she would fight with that hope, push it down, allow it to rise, tear it to pieces, patch it back together.  But in the evening when the sun set and the coolness settled over the land, that hope still haunted her.  Yes, there was a perfect time and place, had to be.

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It took her much time and prayer before she realized that what she sought was possible.  Yes, there was a perfect time and place, only it wasn’t with whom she’d expected.  No, it wasn’t what she’d expected…it was far better.

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Everyday, she took long walks through the fields and woodlands.  Why?  Was it the glories of nature that accosted her whenever she escaped from all the busyness of domestic life?  Maybe.  Was it the tawny deer, the newly mown hay, or the free cries of the little birds?  Maybe.  But if you’d asked her, and if she’d answered you truthfully, she’d have told you, she went in search of something far more glorious than the amazement and wonder nestled in the grass and trees of the countryside.

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She’d have told you – She went in search of an encounter with the King of her heart, the God of creation, her best friend, confident, protector, defender, and wise counselor.  If she’d been truthful and open, she’d have spilled the intimacy she shared with her Savior, of His sweet and precious love, of His seeking her and her meeting Him.  Ahh…yes, if she’d been truthful, she’d have told you.  But, she was a quiet girl, concealed all these things in her heart, like the Mary of so long ago and waited.  She realized the fragility of something this precious.  Realized her own passions and willfulness could destroy all of it in a moment.  So she hid these thoughts from the world.

Funny thing…this waiting is

Funny thing…this waiting is.

Seems so familiar

And yet so new

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Funny thing…emotions play

Thoughts of peace

Thoughts of worry

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Funny thing…trusting in God

He said “no” before

He wants my best

Fear…that vanquished horror

Fear…that awful phantom

Wrapping its cool fingers tightly around my heart

Taking me captive

Attacking my mind

Till it’s laughter echoes from inside my very being

–

But fear can’t stand long before the King of Kings

Slowly, the battle begins

One cruel finger unwillingly untangles itself

Followed by another

And another

–

Ah, sweet freedom, sweet, sweet, freedom

But fear hovers in the background

Watching for a week moment

Haunting in the shadows

Ever quick to jump on helpless prey

–

But freedom, once felt, will not be relinquished so carelessly again

No, the fight has begun

The battle will wax and wain

And God, working in my life, will be the Victor

The battle…

There was a moment’s rest for her.  She could breath deeply and just relax.  But she knew the battle was coming.

–

Then it hit.  In all it’s fury, and she felt so alone and completely convinced that she would die.

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But she was crying out to God, begging, pleading.  And against what seemed immeasurable odds, she was trusting Him and choosing to believe that He would pull her through.

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And then it was over.  God had been strong…He’d pulled her through.  And she wept tears of relief and joy and praised His name.

–

The enemy slunk away in defeat, vanquished by the King of Kings.

A single man…walking on the road

There was a lone man, walking slowly down the road.  His was the walk of someone who didn’t exactly know where he was going, nor was he in a hurry to get there.  I had to admire his easy gate and his relaxed posture.  Ah, I thought, there’s a man without a care in the world.  He’s content and happy, and I envy him.

But as I came even with him, I saw the look on his face.  His chin was dipped down, his cheeks were damp, and in his eyes was the look of a thousand sorrows.  Ah, I thought, there’s a man with too many cares for this world.  He’s sad and lonely, and I don’t envy him.

But then the man looked up at me.  His chin lifted.  His eyes softened and he smiled, gently.  Slowly, he held out a single red rose he’d been clutching.  The thorns had pricked his hands, but the rose was perfect.  I took it in my hand, overcome by the change of expression in the man’s face.  The smile he shared reached his eyes and shone from his soul.  I thought, there’s a man whose learned so much from the cares in this world.  He’s at peace and reaching out to others, though pain is ever present inside himself.  I envy him.

Someone with skin…

Where do you run…when you’re all but spent?

What do you do when your friends just can’t understand?

Where do you hide when life pounds too loud?

What do you do when you’ve given everything you have…and it might not be enough?

—-

Run to Jesus

Run into His arms

Nestle deep in His precious love

Hide for awhile

—-

Running,

Running to Jesus

Throwing myself into His open arms

—-

But pardon me

If I sound a bit human

Sometimes, sometimes…

I just want someone with skin

—-

New thought

Jesus has skin

Yes, He does

He understands

He was here

And now He’s there

Talking to God for me

Precious thoughts

Jesus has skin

Yes, Jesus has skin

They don’t know that I go running home when I fall down…

She was running, stumbling over the rocky ground.  Her dress hem caught and she grabbed it with one of her rough hands.  With her other, she brushed her loose hair back off her tear stained face.  Her blinded eyes could not see the way, and she elbowed her eyes; her tears stained the sleeve of her dress.  And she was running again, running, running.  And then, there it was, the little pathway bordered by field rocks.  There was the wooden door, slightly ajar in the little cabin.  The warm glow of lamplight shone from inside.  And she ran, her slippered feet padding quickly down the pathway.  She was at the doorway, and He was there.  Big, oh so big, and strong, so strong.  His gentle hands gathered her in his embrace.  “My daughter, my precious daughter.”  He whispered, his voice deep and husky.  And she let the tears come, content even in her distress.  She felt safe, protected, and cared for.  She’d fallen down, and come running home.