May 23rd, 2021
The sun sets quietly in the west… the day is done. We peacefully rest.
And in the shadow of the mountain, by the side of a rippling lake… little cousins dance in the moonlight - pretending to fish.
They cast their makeshift rods just beyond the water’s edge… poles pieced together by big cousins from debris found along the shore.
Nanny sat watching seven of her twelve treasures paddling and splashing … smiling for joy.
Treasuring her treasures.
The big cousins paddled, each with a little one on board and when little ones fell overboard - they laughed… even more.
Hot dogs roasting over a makeshift fire, made the spontaneous picnic alive and real…
It’s Sunday Sabbath Rest day…
We heard, because we could not help it, neighbors to our left… who yelled and screamed at one another and could not find the Rest.
I began to judge them… felt myself creeping near, but then I remembered the Cross
and grace.
And if not for God -
that could have been me.
Tired and weary. Burdened by life.
Hopeless not hopeful…
annoyed and fed up -
IF not for the cross - that could have been me.
Our little ones danced back to the table - spread out like a fancy feast. I’m not sure if it’s the chips and the veggies gracing the table that draws them near…
Maybe it’s just grace.
Moms and dads intentionally leaning in to serve grace
with hot dogs made on a grill…
by the side of the lake,
in the shadow of the mountain,
with the sun slowly setting,
while the moon rises higher.
Hearts bowed low before our Creator…
Big cousins,
little cousins,
tall cousins,
different cousins,
sister, brother, wife and Mom…
woven together with love.
These are the slow days of Sabbath memory making…
Grace
They walked away and all grew quiet — I wanted to judge…
But the Cross -
if not for the Cross that could have been me.
And I continue to work out my salvation with fear and trembling…
sometimes so very tired and weary -
And in my weariness I reach…
for the Cross and grace - because someday -
if I don’t give up - a harvest will be ready to reap!
