thin places

spring brings me to the thin places. those places that the Celtic speak of in reverential whispers in the silence of the night when the stars are close enough to be touched and the moon has a face of love.

the place when the line between Heaven and earth is thinner than three feet, and everything seems wispy and sacredness seems to overwhelm.

these are the shoeless places, holy ground, where sandals fall from calloused feet and the grass slips between toes. that's a prayer, right there.

i feel like these places come out with the spring breezes and impending April showers. they bring me closer to the ground, all laid out with palms flat to the earth.

{via pinterest}

but it makes me feel fragile. as things get thinner, i feel that i get thinner too, easier to break. and that's a frightening reality sometimes, when things feel so close so shatter. but it's worth it when the world gets wispy and my fingers can slip between the veil.

what i need is the dandelion in the spring. the bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. 

the promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. 

that it can be good again.

::  the hunger games :: suzanne collins ::

i'm learning to love these thin places. these little gaps between light and dark, and open and shut. i like this barefoot season of scared and holy. 

it's the glass of ice water, Life Water, beneath the spreading branches from a thousand trees. it's the whisper in the wind that sings of courage and strength and rest. 

it's the thin places. 

three things :: spoken word

sometimes i wanna write what i feel.

i want to take what i see and do the undone and fix the unfixed and light the snuffed candle all over again. but then i look and i say, do i even see? do i even know anything?

and so i take my pen and my paper and my too-many thoughts and i sit and i wonder just what might happen if i knew something, anything at all.

i watch the people, feet on pavement and pavement on feet. and i realize what i know.

i know three things, because sarah kay says good things come in threes, and she's right, after all.

:: i know that light kills the dark ::

and when you're walking in the dark and there's nothing but a match in your pocket, it's a good thing to know. and when you're walking in the Night and there's nothing but a verse in your mind reminding to be still and know that I AM...it's a good thing to know.

:: i know that art is the voice even when it never speaks ::

i know that sometimes the silence of a paintbrush screams SEE ME and the whisper of just one wavering note in the empty concert halls cries I CAN DO THIS AFTER ALL and the raised arm on a stage is the salute to all things undone and all things done over and over and done well.

:: i know that mystery is just that, and it's okay to not know ::

{via pinterest}

i know that knowing is part of the battle, and when you don't know what you know that it can crush and scare and be unsure. but it's okay to have a mystery that you don't understand.

and it's okay to let Him be the mystery of Love and Flesh and Man and God all in one small infant bundle, growing up up up to be Death and Life and Salvation and Water and Broken Bread with Wounds that Heal.

that is what i know. no more shaking ground for i stand on What, on Who i know.

because i write what i feel and i feel what i know. and i know Him and little else. but that's power, okay? that Light is more than enough. that Water is more than enough.

because i know these things. Him and Him only.

everlasting, time over time, from age to age.

Alpha and Omega, You answer. because You know

more than three things. 

egg

{via pintrest}

again, i am drawn to the small.

it seems in recent days that i have been pulled toward those things which are normally passed over or seen as insignificant to careless eyes. 

spoons and steps to the sacred.

i awoke this morning with a picture in my head. it was the photograph just to the left. 

a photograph of eggs. and for some reason, i could not get it out of my head, regardless of whatever i might do to dislodge it.

and then i began my morning blog readings. and the first one that i read was this one by Ann Voskamp.

and i realized that my glorious King was whispering in His own silent way that this mental portrait of an egg needed to be poured out and shared.

and so i pour. 

i pour this thought that an egg's sacredness has been lost. a gift from Heaven to remind us again and again of the holiness of God. 

more than just the picture of the Trinity here on earth, though that is indeed a glimpse of Heaven's gates.

it is the reality that brokenness can be restoring

that in our weakest state, when our shells are shattered and strewn about, that we are the most fulfilled. the most ready to be used for the benefit of others. for the benefit of Him.

{via pintrest}

for glory to come, brokenness must occur. 

for life to be seen, the shells must crack.

for Love to be poured out, the blood and water had to flow. the shell was crushed for life to be born.

the Stone Table must crack for death to run backwards.

the King must die for Death to die. 

this is life. this is love.

this is what it means to be an egg.

Traincar

I have just learned a valuable lesson regarding blogging.

You get inspired, you write it.

Immediately.

Regardless of where you are or what you're doing. You don't wait or even remotely hesitate. You just write it.

Because if you don't, you will lose really incredible stuff that your mind cooks up.

Which is what has happened to me.

Yesterday, I took the train from one city to other. I should have known that I was going to get inspired.

There was so much going through my head at that moment. And my laptop was right at my feet.

I honestly had no reason to not just reach down, pick it up, open a WORD document, and just start writing until my fingers fell off.

But I didn't.

And now I regret it.

Because I can't get back what I lost. Who knows what it could have turned into, who it could have blessed. I'll never know now.

But I guess this whole thing has taught me something in the long run.

Missing that moment -- that one, crucial little flash that you can never relive -- is such a dangerous proposition.

You never know what friendship might be destroyed...what love could be missed...what life could be lost.

We must do more than just carpe diem -- we must seize more than just the day.

We must take every moment, every breath, every flash...

...because, if you don't, you never know what important moment you'll leave along the train tracks.

Coffee

This morning, I had my first cup of coffee in a very long time. It was like getting reacquainted with an old friend.

I don't know exactly what is it about a cup of steaming java, but there's something so soothing and familiar about the feeling of the ceramic cup in your hand.

...the fragrant steam floating up from the mug, brushing its warm fingers against your nose.

...the sharp, smooth flavor of that first, perfect sip.

It's comforting, at any season of life.

There are so many "coffee-flavored" aspects of life. Perfectly simple, and yet essential. Somehow, they end up filed under "forgotten wonder," and their existence fades into a misty sort of consciousness until they eventually disappear altogether.

It's the simple, seemingly insignificant things -- beautiful things that we tend to overlook until we realize that they've disappeared and we want them back in our lives again...

...that little ray of sunlight that breaks through the window each morning to dance on the pillow and whisper secrets in your eyes.

...the sweet kiss of a lover, barely a brush against your check.

...the reassuring hug of your best friend that speaks volumes without a single word being spoken.

...the breath of ocean-scented wind as it sweeps your hair like a velvet curtain over your eyes and caresses your sun-tanned shoulders.

...the words of God, locked away in the secret corners of our mind that bring life when we feel like we're fading away.

So maybe it's time to re-evaluate our lives...

It's time to inhale the scent of steaming coffee, blink away the fog...and live again.

Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. ~C.S. Lewis