Monday, July 11, 2011 at 04:59AM
"Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us." ~ Luke 1:78
Thank you, Lord, that even in this early hour, before the darkness begins to fade, Your perfect, glorious, amazing Light is within us; lifting our hearts, raising our voices, praising You more, with every light of dawn.
Sunday, July 10, 2011 at 07:52PM 
"Those who live at the ends of the earth stand in awe of your wonders. From where the sun rises to where it sets, you inspire shouts of joy."
~ Psalm 65:8
Sunday, July 10, 2011 at 10:23AM I don't know if it's because their mother used to say this all the time, or if you can truly inherit the "people watching" gene, but I remember seeing my mother and her sister nodding in unison; whole heartedly agreeing. There's nothing this side of heaven more entertaining than to find a spot in a public place, and simply watch people walk. I thought this was silly, of course, even voyeuristic (before I knew the word for it); until the first time I sat with them together at a shopping mall. All shapes and sizes, seemingly going in the same direction, but to places different and unknown to us, except in our imagination. Some seemed bound and determined to get there in record time; others enjoying the stroll, for the sake of the stroll itself. And some of them seemed lost, even to me; when I had not lived nearly long enough to imagine an adult ever being anything but completely sure of themselves or destination. It bothered me. I distinctly remember that.
My mother used to lean in close to my aunt; ready to point out the funny accent or less than conventional walk, but her sister was already shaking her head; having seen it. Of course, being the perfect southern ladies they were, these observations were made known to each other only. No one was ever aware they were a source of fascination or light hearted fun. Unless, bless their poor hearts, someone happened to slip, stumble, or heaven forbid, completely wipe out. There was no power in either of the two of them combined to have stopped them from holding on to each other with one hand, covering their mouths with the other, and bursting into laughter. "Oh, we're just awful!" they'd say, trying to gain their composure, and then meeting each other's eyes and dissolving into unbridled laughter.
Oh, yes, I've decided there's a gene for that, and I've inherited it, all quite innocently. I simply can't help myself.
Having spent some time this summer out of town or state I find myself taking up this people watching baton my mother has handed off to me. I wonder about them; wish I could see deeply into these most precious of God's creations; wondering if they know the One Who made them. I feel an instant bond with the man or woman wearing a cross around their necks, hoping at the same time, it's more than jewelry. I read the scripture on people's T-shirts, and then look into their eyes, almost always seeing His light there, praying they can see it in mine.
I have never passed a baby that didn't take my breath away; stop me dead in my tracks, as though he were the first and only one ever sent from heaven. But now I find myself watching his mother; studying her eyes, her countenance. I used to wonder about older mothers who offered uninvited advice or encouragement, and now I find I am one, although I rarely speak my mind. I want to tell her it gets easier; you'll get through this. The things her mother and others like me have already told her. I want her to do what we didn't; hold on...with all she has..to this fraction of time; even though she'd like to wish it away at times. I imagine her rocking this baby, wondering if she's doing it the way her mother did; praying to her precious savior, thanking Him for this gift, and asking Him to grant her the strength to accept the precious weight of it.
I once saw a young girl with her grandparents and it came to me as i watched them together that they were almost exactly alike, even from the outside. Blond hair soft, fine as a baby's; struggling to find her way in a world she's just learning; far bigger than she is. She brings them flowers they once knew as weeds, and they take them; seeing them now as she does. Delighted. Suffer the little children to come unto me.... I remember thinking, yes, I see now! He makes us more like these precious ones just before He takes us home to be with Him.
I stand on the outside and see them all now, making me smile, cry, laugh, pray. He reminds me that we are His greatest joy, never taking His eyes off of us for a moment; never sleeping or slumbering, seeing us all in a way we can never hope to grasp, deserve, imagine. He tells me we make Him smile, laugh out loud, even weep at times; this thought too beautiful to believe, although I do. With every part of me. I remember a beautiful soprano voice and think about the words... His eye is on the sparrow. And I know He watches me...
"Keep me as the apple of Your eye; hide me in the shadow of Your Wings" ~ Psalm 17:8
Saturday, July 9, 2011 at 07:32AM It was the waves, white-edged and visible even in the dark; that drew us to sit on the deck for hours last night, although I'm certain it was the events of the day that kept us there, long into the night, watching the water break onto the beach. I find myself this morning back again, in the same chair, as though I'd never left it; the sun causing me to squint already and revealing what I couldn't see only hours ago. Our talk last night was like that, It seems. We see things, now, we didn't before, although they were right here, all the time. I don't remember the last time James and I actually "talked" they way we did last night; the kind that doesn't come often, or ever again maybe. The bare your very heart and soul... I never told you this before, I can't believe I never did...but I'm trusting you with this fragile piece of myself... talk. Because I am not afraid; I love you enough to know that you love me enough. To listen; to want to listen; to believe these things I tell you matter, only because they mattered to me once, a very long time ago.
Yesterday my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. I spoke to them both on the phone and I thought how they had changed; not separately as has been my thoughts of late; but the two of them...as the whole. I see them now this way, as I hadn't before. As it should be... The two shall become one flesh... No longer two, but one. (Thank you, Lord, for the perfection and beauty of marriage!)
A classmate of James had died in a tragic accident hours before, and he remembered him in the way he knew him then, just as I saw James as he was then; heard him tell me the same things he had so many times before, yet hearing them for the very first time. We talked for hours about life, death, broken dreams, joy beyond measure; beautiful, beautiful boy children growing up and leaving us. Lives that don't last as long as we'd like...marriages that last forever... 60 years, and beyond. Our own marriage. Two flawed and imperfect people, coming together, as one.
Lord, thank You that you know what this day holds, and that we can trust You with it; with the secrets deep in our hearts; ones that only You can truly see. Thank you for revealing wonderful things to us when we seek You with all of our hearts.
Thank you for this man who just disturbed my prayer with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile, morning stubble almost handsome. I'd like to tell him this; ask his forgiveness for laughing a little at the shiner he received yesterday at the Water Park (Lord, thank you it wasn't worse; that You protect this 55 year old teenager:) But I don't really need to say it; he is, after all..my other half. The two of us... One.
"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." ~ Jeremiah 33:3
Friday, July 8, 2011 at 08:34AM Preparing to put some sand between my toes and walk. It occurred to me this morning while hearing the thunder roll over the waves that it's no accident they crash so loudly, or that the seagulls honk and squeak with such high pitched noise, making me laugh. He most certainly could have made them all quiet, leaving only our voices (and worries) to disturb the sounds. Our prayers are precious to Him; I know. He loves to hear us speak our hearts. But then, I think, He just may have made this music big enough; beautiful enough...to drown all of "us" out; leaving room only for Him. I hear Him in these waves; this wind...even these seagulls that cry out to be heard.
I'm listening, Lord.
Cross my heart.
"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge." ~ Psalm 19:1-2
