Continuance

Zacchaeus days. Hours that tick by. Consumed with selfish gain.  Unknowingly my own sin has weighed me down hard. Bent my back and my gaze clings to the floor. Crack of time worn out, wood meeting wood. Hard tile unscathed by shuffling feet. Darkness falls over myself as low lids cover my gaze.

One thought. One word. One name.

Jesus?

Going through the motions. Wash dishes. Dry dishes. Turn to give gold spun, joy child a cup of water. Shadows dance across my face. I flinch. Is that you? He is there with me. I look up. I sense His grin. God of the universe playing light games with me in the kitchen. He laughs at His victory. I attempt to contain my grin. I look out the window. The treetops sway high. Sunbeams shine though and play peekaboo with my gaze. Strong love wind trumps solo view!

He has stolen me again! I am thankful. My heart swells. His promises hold true. Every time. All time. It all belongs to Him alone. I am no longer lonely Zacchaeus stuck down low. I am Child of the King, who bows down low. I look high and get down low. I seek to serve Him who overcomes me.

Miracles are here. He is showing himself True. I invite Him to my table. I break bread with Broken Heart Friend. She finds strengthening to return to continuance. Children need a change of scene and a resting place. They come. We sew. We laugh. We rest. God is here in this place. He is there in your vicinity.

The world holds us down harsh. Christ has overcome the world. He picks up our broken self and sets us high. In the treetops of His love and grace, we rest in the shadow of His wing. In the nest woven by H1is grace, it is a Zacchaeus day. He has brought His grace to my home and has redeemed this day from the pit. I am filled full with thankfulness. My joy in running over.

Not Expendable Now

When in seeing this life clearly we must think low to tread high. Endure dark valley to take in mountain peak. See each small miracle to appreciate the unfolding life journey.

The mothering child coughs and it racks her  hard. Eyes red with tears not shed. Groaning softly for release of stomach clenched. I see the miracle. thankfulness for a cup of water. The expectation of being able to break bread. A gratefulness for daily health that usually goes unnoticed by wee ones playing free.

I am reminded of Christ. I look deep in His revealing days in this world clouded with darkness. Read the story backward. Could He have been sovereign without the storm? Could He have been the healer without the wounds? Could He have set free the captive without the torture?  We could not know grace without the undeserving blood shed tree.

 "Who is he in yonder stall 
 at whose feet the shepherds fall?

 'Tis the Lord, O wondrous story! 
 'Tis the Lord, the King of glory; 
 at his feet we humbly fall, 
 crown him, crown him Lord of all!"

I endure with grace because He did. I love because He loved. I care because He cared. I want to see as He sees.

Fill to pour. Fill to pour. Fill to pour. Where I was once dirt, I become a usable pot. A vessel of His glory.

Pale, ailing child sleeps, and I sneak outside with baby wrapped tight. Smiling boy child is waiting. We roll snow into men. I rejoice. Christ did that for me too. Made me something usable out of something expendable.