Woke up to a beautiful reminder and a powerful promise:
“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you.” (Ps 32:8)
The daily Bible verse today for many people, I’m sure, but it dropped into the edges of my tired eyes and slipped silently down my throat, sweet as honey, still flowing into the deepest parts of my spirit and soul.
Entering a new season, a new semester, I feel reassured. Reassured that He is with me always, to the very end of the age, that He will make straight my paths when I acknowledge Him in all my ways and lean not on my own understanding, that He knows me and is familiar with all my ways…
and on this quiet Sunday morning, reassured that when I awake, I am still with Him. (Ps 139:18)
“I always did something I was a little not ready to do. I think that is how you grow.”
Learning how to let go of fear and live in freedom. Unapologetically beloved. The words sound pretty and promising, but they have been smeared and stained and soaked and built and burned with prayers, heartaches upon aches upon aches, self-doubt, small faith, sleeplessness, and the beginnings of surrender.
The two sat on the wooden stairwell and watched the orange glow of the portable furnace, stretching their legs. In the stillness, she could feel her dad’s breaths rise and fall against her shoulders—up, down, up down, the rhythms of solitude. Her heart ached and swelled into her throat, but she did not know why. Do people age silently? She felt that her thoughts were like a black hole, spiraling into invisible possibilities and unknowns, and it was only the up-down-up-down of her father’s chest that kept her connected to the world outside her own.
They spoke without speaking, exchanging feelings and disentangling misunderstandings—two hearts that beat: up, down, up down.