Even goes the tide and with it goes my heart, settling in deep. Ways of life whip past, journeys begin and end, and with the fell swoop of daylight we begin again, taking it all in.
Being reminded over and over of simple truths from mouths of men aged long ago as well as wise men in the here and now. Change comes slowly, but it comes, gently urging hearts to conform. Waiting is but now; the return on the pause of life is abundant joy, worthy of the jilt of life, I suppose.
In these walls, daylight spills over awakening hearts and minds, and while there are no secrets here, the mood of the day is stilled. We consume ourselves with life words, from the life giver, opening hands to catch the tender rays of sparkling light.
With the length of days, so it is with abiding, gently growing shorter as the harvest draws near, rendering our hearts the satisfactions longed for. Here, in these walls, we are living abundantly, with the fervor and love not of ourselves. We lay ourselves at the door, ushering in the Spirit to consume us.
Walking, running, hoping, loving. When your heart opens to the giver of all good things, what do you find? Is there a deep resignation to the will of the One who leads? Is there a stutter to your step as you try to steady weak knees as He says “go forth”? I find myself often residing with Peter, gazing down to rustling waves rather than lifting heavy eyes north to find hands that hold, steady and firm.
Today let us shift our gaze north, star gazing at the One who knows them by name, opening hands to be held firm, offering hearts to be gently molded for joy, and lives to be lived fully for the day. For the day is enough; let us hope. The morrow will wait, and all the while, let us petition for more of Him who gives abundantly.
”This I have recalled to my mind, therefore I have hope.
The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.
“The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.”