Yesterday

Not long into the morning and it begins, and I think crowded. I feel tethered to meager means. The map in my mind rolls up like a scroll and I start with the shallow breaths. I feel entirely too obtuse between this rock and hard place, and my perspective is lost on that magnificent mountain obscuring my view of the wide-open space.

And then it comes, this crisp swell of spacious grace – a greater grace and reality. There it is. Right on time, like manna from heaven. It fills my lungs, floods my soul, sweeps me off my feet and places me right back in the moment I was in. 

Heaven is here. Heaven is now. 

I make crazy circles, from little to large, and back again. But right now I'm small, and He can be big as He is. 

So, that’s it.  I decide, I’m not waiting for ‘real’ life to begin… to get easier… to be kind. What is that, anyway? I have waited and have found that life does not wait for me. It happens, is happening, will carry on with no regard for my position or petitions.

By noon I hang rung-out clothes on the line. I spend my energy to save a little. I stack folded towels high, where sticky paws cannot reach to topple. I catch a glimpse of my frizzy hair, bangs swept along a perspiring brow. I’m not polished, or even showered. But I’m happy. Heaven has washed up onto my shore. I feel it. It’s a wave of contentment. It’s gratitude. It’s a modest minute gone regal: a careless head of hair, a sink full of grimy dishes, a storm door adorned with fingerprints and a back porch laundered with stinky diapers. 

Heaven - right here and now.

I dodge 4 cats underfoot, find budding tomatoes on the vine and rub basil leaves between my fingers while I take long, deep breaths. No more shallow breathing when the air is full of truth and your mind is clear. 

My green eyes glitter over purple berries kissed with sunshine, well on their way to becoming black and sweet. I look up to see if the birds are aware. They see from on high, perceive the ripe hour. Heaven knows all about time. 

Everything is alive and now heaven feels like goose bumps on my skin from the sun poured out over me. The Son, poured out for me. 

He’s alive now I'm alive.

The husband lingers over lunch, his name on the pocket of his work shirt; three letters, simple and stitched on his chest in blue. His hands and neck are dark with work. When he walks by, my heart still stirs. Still. I just don't always show it. His white t-shirt glows next to his skin. My busy hands look porcelain to his. 

I’m distracted with his hands. I daydream of holding them, kissing them. I do hold them, kiss them - seems just as vulnerable and intimate as the mouth. Strength and tenderness both held there. 

He is stronger than I know, has borne the brunt of many storms. More steady than I, only shaky while speaking words from the heart.

I secretly recycle a holy moment in my mind, right there, midday, over a sink of messy with my back turned. Love grows there. Respect grows there.

I've been a foolish woman at times; torn down a man who stood taller than me. Thought I could wrestle him and win. He beats me by endurance, wins me with faithfulness. I have a little strength, but I have not always wielded it wisely. I have spent it on perishing things, like worry and fear. 

He prays that I would trust more, that I would feel love, more. It’s just a few words but perfectly discerned. 

Trust more. 

Feel loved more.

I grab the last basket of laundry as the day slips between the hanging towels. It blows right through with a whisper of a breeze. I let my arms fall limp, grip the earth with my dusty feet, and allow the south wind to blow my tired hair however it pleases. 

I just go with it, in the standstill. 

I’m not moving but I feel the flight of life. And it is faithful to do what it does. It just keeps taking place.

It’s in the unassuming moments that I discover how extraordinary it all really is. The finite, it waves me onward to eternity. 

This is real life, and I’m not missing it.