Thursday, February 23, 2012

February 23rd

Keith and I have been leaving the heat off in the nights and so have piled a couple more blankets on the bed, which, at some point in the night, become all tangled.

In the mornings, I wake up in the middle of the bed, blankets slipping off the edges like heavy loops of warm frosting off the side of a cake.

It was mild and damp outside this morning, and cloudy again, soft scallops of pearl, blue and grey that washed across the sky.

Abby sat down at the side of the pool in quiet dignity and stared off into the middle distance while Lynn tiptoed along the fence, nose down, inspecting the front lines for signs of intruders.

I saw this, when I sat down at the computer:

"How amazing are the deeds of the Lord! All who delight in Him should ponder them. Everything He does reveals His glory and majesty. His righteousness never fails." (Psalm 111:2-3)

Last night, I was thinking about the pleasure of having a story with God, a story that has no end.

We are His living stories; we ourselves are some of the most amazing of His deeds. In a way, we worship God just by existing- our new life in Him is a living testament to His glory and grace.

The story God has with you, He has with no one else. The way in which you are with Him- the voice with which you talk to Him- is unlike any one else's. If you were missing in the crowd, He would go to search you out. He would not be satisfied until He had found you.

The very heart of God stands wide open to us. It is an open door. We can have as much of God as we dare to believe possible.

It is like waking up from some cloudy, dreary dream- to look up and see that God is not distant, He is not frowning, He is not unobtainable.

I keep thinking of this quote by Rohr: "God comes to us disguised as our life."

He is in the very moment and place where we are living. That's where we find Him- tenderly bound up with our own life, from the inside out.