Turning the hottest room in the house frigid by dawn’s first light.
So I snuggle down deep, burrowing next to him, hand resting lightly on his belly. Chest rising and falling, rising and falling.
And my breaths sync with his own.
We are one.
Becoming more one each moment, with only seven months behind us.
Pillow talking our way into morning as the sun, one eye still shut, yawns and stretches towards day. Then boldly mounts the distant hillside, proclaiming in no uncertain terms…
And He is. For this is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Easy words to say lying wrapped up in Dearest Husband’s arms. Safe. Secure. Happy. Peaceful.
Perfectly content in our little corner of the universe.
Then feet hit the floor. The wood is cold beneath my toes. A sharp reminder that I must will.
Choices to be made. Each day. Even before being fully awake.
Even when I don’t want to. Even when the current circumstance is less than.
Dearest Husband agrees and we pray for change. Believing we are one day closer. Living our dream, our second half chapter, after the darkness of nights better forgotten.
A brand new day, in the making.
Yet life is measured in moments and moments are meant to be savored. All the moments from Him. But only by Grace.
By Grace are ye saved. And by Grace we will learn the lessons of the moments.
If not, they will be squandered. They will fall away and the door will shut and they will be lost forever. And one day we will wake up, look around and ask, where did they all go?
So savor the moments, I remind myself.
I AM. In every moment.
Like a constant drip, the question nags me as I go through the morning routine, gearing up for the grind.
Yet He is. Always there. Arms outstretched.
But one day I forgot. Somewhere I got lost a little. Tangled up in what my eyes only could see. Choosing to ignore the spiritual joys that are just beyond the veil, to squeeze tight the bird in hand. Which flew away and died. Better off dead.
Something best was within grasp if only I would stretch out my withered hand.
I need Him to pick me up.
Then seek Him. And I will too. For all He is. Just because.
He loves us.
And this is the only place we will find life. Where our dreams, that are really His ancient plans all new, can come true.
I steal but a few moments with Him before the hustle and bustle sucks me in. Suffocating hope again. Churning despair in the deep parts.
I hear Him say, in barely a whisper, I AM.
I AM here and I have not moved. But, where have you wandered, Little Girl, Little Boy?
I long to be there. To live there. In His arms. Always.
Years ago, I was. Much more closely. Before a spell of sinful choices knocked me off course for a while.
Until God, in His great mercy, said enough. And tenderly took hold of my heart again. Set my feet on Holy Ground. Dried my tears.
A man who inhales Jesus with each breath, bringing life and love to every fiber of his fabric, so warm and cozy, making every exhale an Alleluia…
I am wearied from traveling in a land far from home. So I keep seeking. Holding my partner’s hand. My life’s love who helps me see Him better. Who spurs me on with his prayers when I am tired. Whose shepherd’s crook nudges me when I get a little out of line.
Are you weary, too? Do you need to catch your breath? Do you need to return to the safety of His embrace?
Seek, wearied traveler. Seek Jesus, the One who loved you so much He gave His life.
Seek with us. And we with you. All of us together. The way it was always meant to be. Loving. Longing for what is yet to be…while living fully in every moment of the here and now.
And one day we will arrive at the celestial city, all gold and gleaming, and the gates will fling wide open and we will walk through…Welcomed.
At last…I AM. Home…