Be Still Stories: Chapter 5
Written on January 22, 2018.
Restores
1/22/2018
Atop peak of mountain, a whisper wound within me. “Just pray.” For the forty three years since, those words have kept me bound to the One who ever listens and always responds.
The past year plus a half, has found me winding myself around those words as tightly as I can. For I sit upon a globe that veers violently away from that which my heart beats toward. Those with the need to be “right” howl for blood while those with the longing for righteous know beyond knowing that the blood given for all, is so much more than enough.
Day by day in the months gone by, my eyes have seen ink spilled upon paper, fonts flaming across screen, spelling doom and dire. My ears have cupped overturned words full of doubt and despair. A few words sown together like a tattered garment.
“Prayer doesn’t work anymore. Vengeance is victory. “ Words don’t quite come to tell of the toll these have tried to take upon my heart and hope.
I hear the bleat of bereft, but I cannot go. For I am not deprived, robbed or stripped. Bankrupt of beauty I am not. Eternally bound to its pursuit and finding I am. For to take my eyes from the allure of that which has been allotted to all and every, would allow heavy and hindrance to swallow me whole. And keep me from being His taste and see. I would falter and fall and no longer fathom the bounty broken and buried.
The tethered truth of this is what led to the prayer I couldn’t resist and the testimony that comes still.
A little house along the way from feeding the horses. First view found broken cars upon the yard, fallen trees and branches strewn and scattered, appliances without instead of within. Debris appeared to grow from dirt. My draw to this soil, roof and flesh was not because of eyesore, but heartache. Immediately, I could hear the land, hold the home and hope for the people inside. My first communion with my Creator and theirs revealed how desperately they were trying to find different and delight. And I couldn’t help but believe with them and for them.
It hasn’t been instant, but most certainly inconceivable, what has happened since late spring. Just little changes in what loitered at first. Old things moved to new places. Each day as I approached, He would share something precious about the family awaiting finding or invite me to ask for a provision for them.
On a day like any other, He told me as I drew near that there was a great treasure He wanted to show me. At the stop sign which gives me gaze, I sat expectant. The treasure toppled right out as two of the cutest little ones I had ever see bounded for the bus. Twins, gendered male and female, blond as could be. They tipped my heart right over. Because no matter who or what we pray for, He will find us right in the middle and give from our generosity. You see, this drive by was just a few weeks after our own twins had bounded back to Heaven.
I had to pull over just past their place and celebrate through tears and thanks, how much they had been given and ask for His help in their stewarding.
Since that day, time has sped for them. A stack of firewood stands neatly, made from the fallen trees. A picnic table replaces the toilet. The number of cars has diminished and those that remain operate from the driveway. The only vehicles in the yard are the bikes of two treasures. Fallen fences are now at attention. The number of appliances inside in now surely greater than out. A trellis now lifts a lovely vine. Scaffolding pays a visit now for the work that is happens day by day. And yesterday I discovered a birdbath added right near the front door.
Simple it may seem, but it has kept my suspended in splendor. I may never meet this family, but I know them deep and wide. I keep praying with each arrive and depart because He keeps inviting. I can’t help myself and I’m stunned that it helps them.
This is just one of my daily endeavors with Him. It has fastened me firm to all others.
For there is broader, bolder yet. And when we begin, He never ends. He doesn’t just restore, He restores. He continues when we carry.
Storied:
Let Pappa reveal a place where hindrance has hung your hope. Where dirt has seemed deeper than treasure. Journal about your renewed focus and faith in an area you may have let go of.
Beyond:
If you haven’t asked Pappa recently about your fields, do! You might find some places you are loitering instead of lingering. Make a new “map” of those areas he trusts you with and let him find you faithful right in the big middle of them each day!
