“He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.”
The days God seems most real tend to be the days when things don’t go according to plan, at least for me. They’re not necessarily bad days or messy days or hard days… not always. They’re just different. Maybe it’s waking up on the right side of the bed, somehow more aware.
Today at staff meeting (which I usually struggle with, because meetings and I don’t get along), we talked and prayed, longing for God to break in and change the way we do life: relationally and financially, specifically. I managed to be present in that meeting, and the words that came out of my mouth were not rote prayers. They were I-believe-Jesus-is-who-he-says-he-is-so-I-am-going-to-let-this-heart-be-desperate… for myself, for others, for the world… kind of prayers. And though always, always when we pray we are heard; today I felt heard. And loved.
Heather says that when you pray for someone, an important thing is that they know they are loved. That is God changing and healing their hearts even if their circumstances or ailments don’t change (that’s not to say we don’t believe God can and does fully transform and heal). Being aware of the love of God in a staff meeting prayer time where I tend to lack luster reminded me of that important thing.
After staff, the day progressed with mostly normal events coating the day with drab color. That’s just the way the day went. I moved into a meeting with Bob, my boss and friend and mentor, and we dialogued. The exchange of life brightened things.
I photographed a little girl who is getting baptized on Sunday, “to show everybody that I love Jesus,” she said.
And then I talked to some friends and the weather got crazy and I hung out with some kids and all this unexpected insanity emerged. The happenings caused me to talk to God while I was on the phone. The happenings caused me to listen to God while I helped the kids to bed. They’d been frightened by a story they’d heard earlier in the day, and I wasn’t measuring up as a temporary mom substitute. While I drove home tonight, the whole day spilled into a conversation that somehow made hopes and dreams and desires and wants splatter all over today’s canvas.
Now at bedtime, awakened to the reality of God’s presence, which is, even on the days when I see/hear/taste/touch/smell nothing of him, I find myself prying my grip loose from so many things that are according to my own plan. Because opening hands and lifting eyes invites the kind of life we were created for: a life centered around something, someone more. And that is where I want to live. That is where we’re made to live. We are loved by our Creator. He is with us.
Things are looking up.