December 30, 2013

Ever On

Beneath my left hand is a worn scrap of paper taped to the cold silver of my laptop. It has been there for almost a whole year now. The days have taken their toll, most certainly.

Trust. (not crust. Have some imagination. . .)

God asked me to work on trusting Him more this past year. O for grace to, I always say.  I have needed much Grace this year.  I feel a bit like this reminder--a little worn around the edges, a little misunderstood, but still there. I am still here. In these lingering days of 2013, the gratitude falls and gathers like the snow that drifts across the grey today. This year has been a year of Grace falling, and before I knew it, the ground was covered. I learned to watch it. Learned to taste and see each moment.

I wish I could say I did taste each moment for the gift it was, is. I failed in many ways. I got lost in the shadows of my selfishness--oh what a place that is. At first it seems so, well, fun! But it is a lonely place.

He found me, as always, hiding in the shadows, and drew me out. I shiver now with the humble beauty of this: the hidden patch of blue in the sky above, the golden sun glowing through snowy trees, the light flick of the Q-tip arrow my sister shot at me from beneath her flowing red cape, the familiar creak of our aged floors, the gentle pianic songs, the noiseless snow collisions as flakes meet ground.

I have regrets--regret is a curse we cannot break, I think. But "ever on go we."

Another word will be chosen for this year. But for now, what comes is a perpetual sunrise of thought: {My soul waits for the Lord more than watchman for the morning, more than watchman for the morning.} Psalm 130:6  That echo, that drifting thought that lingers on the mind that the measure of my year is not what I have done, but how much I need who He has been--

the One who Comes. . .

the One who Sees. . .

the One who Holds. . .

Him, in whom I--we--can trust.

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