I am not usually a procrastinator. I am far more likely to cross my bridges before they come to me. I was given an assignment of documenting where I see God at work. This did not sit well with me and so I procrastinated. Though I journal often, I don’t do it quite in this way. I well remember asking others to do the time when I was their pastor. I wonder now what they thought then. Now it is I who resist. It seems like an assignment to dissect the numinous and therefore almost sacrilegious, even blasphemous to do so. For me, God’s workings are impossible to categorize at this point in my life although it was not always so.
I have been most aware of the presence of God in the depths of my sorrow but I can not put that into words. And I am not in those depths of pain these days though I am quite aware of the brevity of life. I hear my mother’s antique school clock ticking the seconds away of her life (and mine) as I listen to her day each evening by phone and I am aware of the finite nature of each breath we take. Mom laughs as her cat jumps on her lap and demands attention. Her voice changes as she tells this lithe and furry creature of her love and I thank God as my own fat and fluffy cat sleeps soundly on my own lap. God loves.
An old friend sends a post to me in jest but between the lines I learn that my words and my posts have led him to a bit of healing of his chronically depressed spirit. “To be a vessel for God’s grace” has been my lifelong understanding of the purpose of my life. It sounds like delusions of grandeur when I write it now but it has been my talisman for decades. I know that this is what my life is about but the words cannot match the awesome reality or the essence of this when I find out this poor vessel did pour holy oils on troubled waters.
A friend entrusted us with the care of her 11 year old son for the weekend. We adore him. We are the surrogate grandparents – our own live hundreds of miles away. My husband and I were both single parents at one time and we see the stress in younger single parents and their children as they traverse this chaos. Yes, God is clearly in that chaos as he carries us through and comes to us with skin on. I loathed the chaos in my life but oh God’s presence was sweetly felt even then, deeply then.
The clock chimes 1 pm. I have an hour to spend in prayer and meditation. An hour in the silence when I intentionally dwell in God’s presence. It is in this silence that I have come to know that I too am God’s dwelling space. Where is God at work? God is always and everywhere, in all things, even the most ghastly of things, even in moments of horror. God is.
Absolutely beautiful! Thank you
..you have no idea, how very synchronictic this to my very thinking early this morning. Mysterious ways..