Diary of a God Girl

…eat slow, take small bites

Love Storm

A southern storm is moving in outside my window.  The sky purple and black hangs restless over these Tennessee hills and a staggering sadness fills the clouds and my brown eyes too.

My heart beats in minor key about to strum up some change in me, rain in me.  I say, “Go ahead, play your sad song and change me happy!  Let the tears precious fill to the rim and fall brave over the craggy rocks in me.  Just like those clouds getting ready to burst open and pound tons of spit on the drought down here, go ahead, RAIN, you looming clouds!  Let’em all wring out dry!”

I can swim.

Way up high, beyond the dark gloom the sun sits golden next to Dorothy’s rainbow.  That twister couldn’t scare her sun away.  The sun is always there above the clouds like God burning bright even if we can’t see it. 

No light switch can turn that power off.

And so, God, the Master puppeteer, gets to puppeteering those clouds, lining them up for the perfect storm in the earth of me and you.  Uncertainty takes center stage, chilling fear and tempting winds of rebellion take their mark.  Sun ball hides out in the wings waiting for its cue with all the birds and the blue sky and the buttercups and the rainbow too.

As for the leaves, orange and brown and yellow, life has come to an end.  They break off from their limbs and fall in soft circles like a swirling fire ready to be quenched.  Some land crisp on the dirt and crush under my boot and some land in my hands waiting for me to let them go.

I hold change in the palm of my hands.

I grip fast to the heart rope, one end tattered in my fist and the other end way up past the clouds, lassoed around the giant belly of the sun.  I swing back and forth from doubt to faith, fear to trust in between the circling leaves and the dying things in me.  The pumping of the blood breaks heart seams and self-made boundaries,  busting faith wide open for a bigger love.

Big Faith.

Break Thread.

Grow Heart.

Only God can stretch the boundaries of our faith with His love storm and break open the thread that stitches our hearts tight shut.

We all get lost in our swirling storms just like Dorothy did but God promises that He will be there before, during and after every storm.  The only place we will ever find peace in the cold of life is to keep our eyes on God and look inside the crevices of our hearts where God longs to live and breathe life and love into all things.  Jesus died so we could be found in Him.  Jesus is our only way our of every storm.

God is our best compass in our lost times.

Funny, the things we find in our own back yards, in the back of our own hearts.  We murmur under the willow weeping waiting for someone to find us, for God to hear our prayers.  And just when the sky turns so black inside , when we think we will never see the light of day, there it is.

The Light is in you and me.

I am grateful for the storm moving in and the sun getting ready to beam yellow.  I thank God for filling the rooftop of my heart heavy with debris.  How I need the rain for the loosening of the yuck, the scrapping away of the dinge in me.  

We all have dinge.

When we feel the change starting to move in all uncomfortable and strange, it’s gonna be ok, because even though everything changes around us there is One Light in us and above the clouds that will always shine.  The only thing in this busted world that will never change is God and the promise of hope through Jesus that was poured out on all of us on that day when His sky turned black with pain.  And when rain flooded the eyes of the faithful, God was up there puppeteering those clouds and His Son perfectly in place.  Yeah, God rose His Son up from that cross, and took all those splinters out of Him and now Jesus is the only One who can take all the splinters out of me and you. 

When the last thunder rolls, the still quiet sweeps love and hope and victory into our heart holes and a silver string wraps around each cloud like a gift from heaven.  The sun races to the stage and hits its mark high and bright, the birds go tweet and the bud that was reaching up for years finally opens and sips in the lingering drizzle, resurrecting life.  And the butterflies and the bees play see-saw on the petals pink and white and purple.

 

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