It always takes a few days to settle down.  The shadows of the life I just stepped away from – even for this brief moment – fall long and far.  This dim obscurity occurs when something steps in front of the source of Light and lately, too much has been placed in the in-between.  It is no wonder the shadows seem to tumble on forever.

As beautiful and peaceful this place may be it has no magic powers.  To fully enter in I must engage the process.  A journey made a little more difficult when my daily life has become the antithesis of the very things I desire and has tangled itself around and between.  I am learning that escaping a shadowed life requires work to move what is blocking the Light.

But being here is all about unlearning and unleashing.  It is about moving things out and moving me through.  It is learning to stand in the Light and casting my own shadow rather than living in the shadows of something else.

And when I finally get there…

My heart is reawakens and my soul breathes deeper.

I was making my way through the parking lot on a mission to clutch my hands around a triple grande extra hot caramel macchiato.  It had been one of those nights when my mind started racing at 1:00 am and the holy nudge to get out of bed and get on my knees to pray soon followed.  Now with that mission completed, this one became imperative.

I didn’t get too far from my car before a small red pickup truck idled slowly next to me.  I am a little wary when things like this happen.  When cars idle up and windows slowly lower down.  Scars from the past when the similar occurred and perverted intentions were exposed.  So I side glanced briefly when I heard a soft voice say, “do you know what time it is?”

In the driver’s seat sat an older man wearing a well, worn red flannel shirt with a face etched in a million wrinkles and skin as thin as vellum.  He spoke with a country slowness echoing a different time and a different place.  I knew the only threat here was to my schedule.

What started out with an innocuous question idled on to where he was going.  Some place he hadn’t been before in a town he hadn’t seen in 20 years but was only 40 miles or so down the road.  While the engine of this little red pickup whirred on, he quietly told me where he was from, White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia.  He had left long, long ago but his dear sister still lived there.  I know that because when he spoke about the snow – how he didn’t like it nor wanted anymore to come – he shared he called his sister during our last snowstorm to find out she had her own storm.  She doesn’t like snow, either, so he said.  I smiled and nodded as I silently wondered if the time was ever what he really needed.

I don’t think so.

At least not the time a clock wore at that moment.  More like the time of a slow conversation talking about something, about nothing.

Just talking.

And in that very brief moment, my caramel macchiato didn’t seem as necessary anymore.

The coffee could wait because this was needed.

I pray to see the sacred in the ordinary and yet the momentum of my days cause the ordinary to blur into oblivion.  Far too often, I miss the holy that is right before me.  I miss the holy that resides within me.  This moment I stopped and stood in what looked like a parking lot but was really sacred ground.

We ministered to each other.  He to my busy.  Me to his lonely.  God amongst it all.

God knew what time it was.  It was time for church.

This is what real church looks like.

We have been snowed in since Friday when the Blizzard of 2016 made its way into my neighborhood.  Gratefully, though we may have shoveled a whole lot of snow, we didn’t have the horrible winds or lack of power often associated with storms like this.

 It could have been worse.  It almost always can.

So today, I decided to venture past my driveway and into the neighborhood.  I wanted to walk into this area with my eyes wide open and my camera ready and waiting for something to catch my attention.  

A Visio Divina of sorts.

I have been in an odd sort of way of late.  Caught in a cloak of grayness.  My heart has been weary and my soul has been worn.  Life ebbs and flows much like the tides of the ocean I so love to watch.  This particularly ebbing for me has seemed to last a bit longer and go a bit deeper than I want.  I have a few theories why but theories don’t change anything but perspective often does.

Today, I begged for a change in view.  A glimpse of the Divine is what I asked for.  Something of beauty that I could set my heart to ponder. 

I trudged past the numbing cold that wrapped wet around my calves and into my boots.  The untouched snow marked higher than my knees and made my footing unsure.  I kept walking, though.  I desperately needed this.

I needed to know that even in this midst of the gray cloak of weariness He was there.  I needed to see Him.  My mind knows He is and He has always been.  It is my heart that needs reminding. 

Beauty was all around.  Untouched snow that dazzled bright like a million diamonds.  A lone track of duck foot prints marking their way into the lake.  Berries frozen and hanging reminding me that even now the sparrow has food waiting.  I wanted to go further but the aching in my wet legs said no.  I turned around and trudged back home. 

What I saw was beautiful but I still longed for more.  I am always wanting for more but more doesn’t always seem to be.  So I changed from the snow packed boots and the wet, frozen pants and began to settle my heart that what I had seen must have been enough. 

And then, we saw it, commanding its perch and scanning the horizon right here in my backyard.  My prayer was heard and my heart overflowed.

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or whine, Israel saying, “God has lost track of me.  He doesn’t care what happens to me”?  Don’t you know anything?  Haven’t you been listening?  God doesn’t come and go.  God lasts.  He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine.  He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath.  And he knows everything – inside and out.  He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts.  For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall.  But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.  They spread their wings and soar like eagles.  They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind. 

Isaiah 40:27-31  The Message

Today, more was found right outside my door perched on a limb and I am grateful – so very grateful.