Unexpected Gifts, Dead Goats, and No Cancelation Possibilities

Sometimes my eyes are open, but I do not really see.  Today, I am determined to see.  Grabbing my camera, I step out of the comfortable, cozy hotel and onto cold concrete sidewalk.  Frigid air swirls around my being and dances away on the wind taking with it all the dead and dried out leaves from the previous season.  There is no mistake that this morning, Winter has made its arrival and has no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Glancing down, mid-stroll, I freeze. Like a computer generated game character, time stands still for me. One brilliant, colby colored tender leaf lays at my feet.  It is surrounded by dirt y brown, rusty, and golden dried out leaves ready to be collected and made into mulch. Not able to stop myself, my hand reaches down and scoops it up.  How did this one leaf escape death so far?   Could it be that I saw it because I purposely set out to "see" today?

I have been alive 19,119 days and I have to wonder what all I have missed because I did not really "see".  I have been blinded and lulled to sleep by bright lights; my own swirling thoughts; and the splendor of sparkly and colorful things that flash before my eyes on the screen.  Yikes!  I will never get to relive those days and all I have missed.

Can I be honest?  I often don't really "hear" either. I read the print in my leather bound book and I don't really "hear" any application to my life? Story after story of weird and even distorted events and people.  You know the stories I am speaking of... a man being swallowed by a whale and spewed out onto a beach?  Another one where an ass speaks to a person out on a road? You get the picture.  How am I suppose to understand these things that happened so long ago?

As I carefully pick my steps this evening on my chilly stroll, I am focusing on "hearing".  My ears are hearing the spoken words coming through the tangle of white wires attached to my ears, but am I really "listening"? As usual, I feel like I am hearing rocks in a rock tumbler.  In the flicker of time that it takes for a snake's tongue to taste the air, I "hear" and understand what is being transmitted through the wires.  It is as if someone has taken my ears off "mute" and there is a voice coming through loud and clear.  I can not shake the reality of this hearing.  It sticks to my consciousness the way honey sticks to the spoon.  

We often hear about "covenants".  Maybe you've even made a covenant with someone.  Maybe you've kept it or maybe your good intentions just didn't work out.  God made a covenant with Abram and this covenant is for me too.  In Genesis, He told him to bring a heifer, goat, ram, turtledove, and a pigeon; kill them; cut them down the middle and lay the halves side by side. (Honestly, a pretty gross visual and I am glad He did not ask me to do this!  Yuck! ) In Abram's time, there were several types of covenants, but the most binding was of blood and it was formalized by the both parties passing between the divided halves of the sacrificed animals. When God told Abram to sacrifice those animals and lay their halves side by side, God alone passed between them.  Thus, it is God alone who keeps this covenant.  We contribute nothing to our salvation.  The keeping of this covenant with us is completely dependent on God.  The only thing we have to offer is our trust.

Twenty four hours has passed and still the message is stuck inside of my head like a fly stuck to fly paper.  I can not shake it. I can not cancel this covenant.  I have no rights to this covenant. It is offered to me freely.  

Tonight, I wish we were sitting across from each other in a coffee shop. Tonight, I would look you in the eyes and dare you to really "see".  Tonight, I would gently encourage you to silence your inner noise and really "hear" what our Abba is saying. Ask Him to allow your ears to be open and your eyes to really see.  You might be surprised at what He has for you.  

Until we Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl 

Voices!

The night was as black as tar.  My body was sufficiently wrapped in layers like a securely wrapped chrysalis.  Warmth freely radiated out from my fragile body.  Thank goodness, it was trapped in these efficient layers of soft cloth.  The crisp coldness danced and swirled around me.  As I strolled around our loop, my eyes took in the many dwellings.  Some softly lit and others as dark as night.  

Breathing deeply, I was oddly aware that I was missing something.  Something so delicate and precious, I would need to strain to hear it.  Like a new mother on high alert, I removed my ear buds and kept walking.  On this night, I needed to clearly hear whatever it was.  My heart was in serious need of direction and my mind was searching for a nugget of truth to grasp hold of.  

Four miles later, I returned to my cozy, yellow cottage adorned with white Christmas lights in the window.  Plopping down in the chair at my electronic connection to the world, I placed a CD in the drive, closed my eyes and listened.  Instantly, I knew this what what I had been so focused on hearing.  The previous hour spent walking had been in preparation for these fresh tender words that were now being poured out so gingerly with grace from my sweet friend of 35 years.  Even if I had not understood the meaning of these words, just the sound of her voice would have brought much needed refreshment and life to my soul.  As these words twirled their way through my ear canals and into the recesses of my mind, they seemed to be on a mission.  Refusing to move, I simply sat and let them pour over me.  The cadence of her familiar voice reassured me that I was not alone.

I had to wonder if this is how my Father feels when I call to Him.  Does it move His heart the way hearing my friend's voice moved and comforted mine?  Does He pause and strain to hear my individual voice call out to Him in worship?  Does my voice make Him yearn for my company? 

As I continued sitting there, clear glisteny tears trickled down my puffy cheeks.  I did not wipe them away, but let them collect in a puddle on the desk. I embraced each word and phrase, that was spoken and allowed them to sink all the way in. They located and knit together with other words that were spoken earlier in the week. You see, it had been an extremely difficult six weeks in almost every aspect of my life, but these words were bringing into focus some of the issues.  Truly they were a gift.

Tonight, I am grateful for the gift of hearing and friends who speak sweet, life-giving truth.  May this Plank-Eyed Girl not forget the depth and beauty of these gifts.  My prayer for you is that your ears be tuned to His gentle voice and the friends who love you and speak truth.

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl