|Photo by Michael W May (flickr.com)|
I fill the sink with hot soapy water and put away the toaster. I try to sing anger away, but my voice trembles weak. Anger rises again with sharp pelting stings.
Morning routine comforts me. Folded quilts on made beds. Water sloshing over dirty laundry. I pick up the broom to sweep clean my kitchen, my heavy spirit.
Curtains open and day spills into my home, into my heart. I smile as The Creator reveals His sunrise. His sun flashes, makes even greater light, ruling the day. A good morning.
But the world outside my window is cold, icy, barren. And I remember. The Christian who is not generously bearing fruit. The broken woman who hides away bitterness toward her abuser. The child who shivers, hungry in the darkness. Injustices in my world. In your world. In Father's world.
My anger has nowhere to go. I open my heart, my hands, so Father can lift it away. Tears flow from frustrated eyes because He is the God who is able, but the God who sometimes says no. And my heart pounds grief.
Be still, He whispers. He means it.
I try. Swallow hard. But I speak out of disappointment. Confusion. Rebellion.
Great is My faithfulness, He reminds. I am the God who sees. My ways are not your ways. I am loving toward all that I have made. Trust Me.
My soul stills. I can not force my heart to understand His. I cannot will myself strong and wise. He alone is God. He alone is good. He alone is faithful.
Grace washes over me. Always more grace to soothe the wounds, heal the confusion, soften the harshness. Gratitude replaces discontentment. I watch quietly, awestruck with wonder, as a wellspring of joy splashes up where anger left me dry and thirsty.
And I smile. Oh, how I smile! I am fully awake now to life pulsing around me. To my world where I can make a difference. To my God who is there and is not silent.
He smiles back. He knows I do not understand. Still, I love Him. Still, I trust Him.