Winter light

I was surprised this morning - in the dark and cold kitchen - how lighting one candle could change the room so completely. The light reached into corners and fell far from its position, its place. High and low. My vision changes, my sight and also my heart warms to light. Of course, I can and need to see the analogy to Christ, the Light in the darkness, and to love and lightness of spirit.
I can bring light.
And while light doesn't have the same effect in light conditions, it is still light and still, attractive -- warming as it shifts ambiance.
There is so much about light. The Light.
And the analogy to this new learning in the Messianic influences relates so clearly. As we learn of the Feasts of Israel, so much light is shed on what God is saying to His people. Especially at His ingrafting. These olive branches from another tree -- us.
He made all of this intimacy for His own created and chosen people and allows them to demonstrate how fickle and temporal we humans can be. How we see things. How we in our earthly lives have assurance from the pillar of cloud by day and still fear He won't give us what we really need. Or want.
I see it.
We have the same condition.
I have the same condition, my vision is dim when I don't focus on the light in the day, the light in the darkness. His sun rises. A given that He is here. The creation sings of His glory. Even in the barrenness of winter the Redbud tree grows. It doesn't display a leaf or a flower but His work, His design continues to grow and flourish.
And ah ha! It may not look the way we want it to - but it grows and we wait.
If we trust and enjoy/experience patience and its required exercise -- we have the great gifts of that pleasing show of spring buds and the green-to-yellow glow of covering leaves. We are blessed in season.
But we, the watchers of Israel's old behaviors, forget the folly of the ones we follow and we/I, don't appreciate the wintering for our growth.
Light in the darkness.
Illumination to His design and perhaps, even, His plan.

God and resoutions

God is showing me lots of new things.
He's calling me into more exploring and joy and purpose.

And then I read this great post from Lindsay McPhail.
What is God breathing into you?

And then.

My darling mom brought my darling daughter home from school a week ago Wednesday. It didn't go so well. The toe of her Crocs caught on the top brick step and she fell forward into the door frame. Her Humerus bone took most of her weight and fractured in a spiral. Days, a surgery with pins and plates later, she's here. At my home. Healing, resting and trying to figure out why she isn't whole. And going.

But really, aren't we all broken, some more literally than others? Not able to be who we're created to be without the grace and activity of the Creator. Our God.

So Mom spends more time on the couch. She's just moved from the fancy hospital gown to muumuu like dresses. She's alternately fine and grateful, tearful and frustrated.

But she said two things in the hospital immediately that reminded me of why I am who I am. First, "Well, God must have a plan. I sure don't know what He's doing but I'll trust He knows."  And then later she quoted the sweet pastor friend who married my Dear and me: "We don't ask why me Lord. We ask, why not me Lord."

Right now we're living a study of patience and love.

God is ultimately the One Teacher. Isn't He?

Prayer and listening

This sweet picture found it's way into my inbox this morning from the Navigators. With a question about discipleship and prayer. What I love, beyond the darling heart kites, going up, is the beauty of hearts descending.

The agape.

The agape raining. 

He reigns.

Down. For listening.

Listening changes my prayers. It changes my life. He directs. I hear. I pray and we are in one accord. Harmony with the Great I Am.

Of heart.