The Art of Breathing
I am discovering this, that the Lord works in the trenches of the misunderstood & lowly. That He will let something fall to guide our gazes. In the tragedy, the uncertainty, & even just the disappointment, He is waiting. That He longs to meet us in the midst of our cancelled plans. That He wants to hear our song, even when we have no voice left, no words left. Maybe that, after all, is when we need to sing the most. He is waiting when all of our best-laid plans come to nothing. When we don't have it in us to perform. When we feel like the best we have to offer still isn't good enough. I have discovered that He meets us There. In our heavy sighs. In our runny noses. In our anguished cries. I also suppose this: that those sounds might as well be a welcome banner for how much He feels at home among them. Maybe it's time to stop waiting until we can give Him "our best," & just give Him our now. Scarred & scrappy as it may be.