Click here for Part 2.
Click here for Part 3.
I wait. Little grains of time brush over my face.
Blink.
And Craig all the while continues life as if he never knew of a trip to Kenya, as if God hadn't closed the door because of me. I am jealous. His burden is light. He laughs easily.
And I wait.
Wait.
A weight inside of me, now porous and rough, has rubbed angry spots smooth. Pumice. Bit by bit, a cavern of desire grows inside me all around the fear of him going to Africa. Somehow the wearing away has made a space inside larger. Still I wait. I release the extra lung full of air I've held in reserve. I breathe, awed at the deference God has given me.
I wait. Weightless.
Now, I see my move. It is an offering.
Child, do you want your name on something great?
Crescendo.
Click here for Part 5.
5 comments:
The last line says everything.
It makes me cry.
People can tell me God loves me and that he is a kind and merciful God, but the words are stone cold dead to me until someone paints me a picture. You paint those pictures for me Bethany. And when I am working to think on what is pure and lovely and virtuous, I will now gaze at the picture you have drawn for me of God waiting, waiting patiently,not forcing your hand. Not mowing you over. Just offering. . . and waiting.
Your transparency is remarkable.
Prevail.
I love the story through the pictures of Emma. Great post!
Phew! ~deep sigh~ My dearest, dearest Bethany! So real. Raw. A beautiful example of what it means to be... His.
Post a Comment