It’s late, and I know with out asking Mom that I should’ve checked about slumber an hour ago or so. But somehow the therapy of stringing words together just helps the mind a little, does something for the psyche. So I proceed to write.
Expelled into this world, clenched fist squalling, naked flesh. From dust that formed our body to dust returning. Never resting a moment, always rushing on to the dust. Thrust out into this mad world, like from a cozy blanket to an icy rushing river. From security to insecurity. Its madness swallowing us up. Wringing from us the little bit of nothing, stripping us of any sanity, we may have possessed for a brief moment.

Life.
Desperate life. Plunging, destroying, grabbing, lashing, throwing, beating until beaten, clenching until quenched. Until a little shifting of the soil, a stone from here to there. A song a word and maybe a poem. Then the grass grows on the mound and life moves on outside the enclosure of death still dashing quenching pounding like a venomous torrent . Yet only maybe more like a cascading continuous avalanche.

But bigger than all this mad fury there is a holy peace.
A reverence, and beauty that takes the edge off the sorrow, that softens the grief, that bears the burden. Almost as if it where a dance. The twinkle of the stars that dot the murky night. The whisper of foliage in the breeze. The clear notes of a piano. The embrace of a friend. The blades of new grass poking out of the earth.

A hill. A cross. A Triumph that gives us a freedom. A book explaining it all, and far more than a book. A vibrant passage of words that never allows us to walk away the same. A tiny bit of our immense Creator, yet all of Him, touching this mad earth. And all of this and all things like this soften the blows, binding up our souls yet tears them wide open, open, to receive. To grasp the something that our fist cannot. A little of it, yet not all until, our hands fold, our eyes close, the soil shifts. And then, then, the arms of soul embracing what our arms could never know a greater vaster rest. Never a joy tinged with sorrow. All broken whole, all empty full, all silence turned to song, and all earth-bound free. Engulfed in one holy worship belonging forever.
For in Him we live and move and have our being- Acts17:28

Embrace your Creator. Stay in His truth.
Till next week,
Julie