When does life get easy?
Never?
Never!
When does life get good?
Life doesn’t get good.
It is good.
When does life get good?
Life doesn’t get good.
It is good.
Life, the gift reminds us through God glimpses – a two year
old’s shocked smile and saucer wide eyes as he lays his hand on a helicopter he just prayed to
find, the sideways smirk on the lips of a teen awakening to true truth, or the
elaborately laid, labor ladened, far fetched dream of a grounded girl hoping
for a chance at the 2016 Olympic team… these moments bode of life’s potential. They are worth stopping for. These are the seconds
that capture my breath. They beckon my
fingers find a pencil and journal - I remember and record the goodness of God
in the joyful happenings of life.
Life, the gift reminds us through God glimpses
– a discussion about hurtful, sinful words and actions; the wolf at the
door that promises this time it won’t be fed to satisfaction; or the anxious
moment of awaiting the worst feared, has indeed, come – the trials scream
harshly, “run away, all is lost.” These are the moments that tear at my
heart. Theses crises beckon my voice
find words and wind from the Origin, my Origin– I repentant and remember the sureness of
God in the pain-filled ebbs of life. The sweet Comforter, in this tops and turbulent life, whispers “Be still, know, I Am.”
I hate life mess, I still buffet against it. My personality seems permanently predisposed to a Pollyanna-like perception. My default mode has always been “white-picket fence pleasantry” since, well - as long as I can remember. Intellectually, I readily concede this is not only, not possible- but ridiculous. His, God's, plan is better than my picturesque perfectly picket-lined houses with dialogue and days lacking dishovelment and disagreement. His beauty is seen in the disparity between the dark and light...that's why I keep those Ansel Adams pictures flickering - to remind me of truth. I know, surer than any other thing in life -He is not only real but He is there, here, and all I truly want and need.
The reality is…mess is here and everywhere, and scattered in throughout,
and this world isn’t heaven… it isn’t perfect, yet. The starkness of His beauty against ugliness
of real life is so much more…than that plastic picture my mind so often reverts
to as good.
Nothing, not one thing separates us from Christ; and everything points to Him, all the glimpses are pictures of Him.
Nothing, not one thing separates us from Christ; and everything points to Him, all the glimpses are pictures of Him.
3 comments:
I'm still waiting for your book, JoJo....good words for the heart and soul. Love to you, my friend!
Yes! Everything points to Him!
JoJo,
I couldn't pass by yesterday to say "Thank you" for always reading, for your words of encouragement, and your beautiful blog.
May His grace abound in your life, dearest sister!
Much love,
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