It’s the blossom, just a breathe before bursting open, when you can almost peer inside and see the beauty about to unfold still in a state of delicacy, that could so easily be destroyed. And it’s the flower, arrayed in full bloom, displaying all of it’s glory. Upon second glance you see that it is day’s past it’s prime, and just a breath before collapsing, and in an instant, shedding it’s beauty in a shower of color.
That’s the beauty of Tenderness. It’s the delicacy, a heart that beats to emotion barely kept beneath the surface, a soul that feels sensitive as a bruise, eyes that well with tears if a glance is too kind, a touch to gentle, a word spoken to intentionally. It’s when the hand of God weighs heavy upon you , until you feel the deep breathing of your own soul. It’s when He breathes gently, stirring the waters that had grown still, so that the slightest memory of a dream or a passion, cause you to long with every fiber of your being to see it be fulfilled.
On January 7th, the Lord put me on crutches, and I was hit with a major sinus infection. The crutches intensify the problems in my neck causing consistent headaches, and I’ve been living on medication: a mandated season of weakness and depending on the strength of others, of long nights spent waiting, hoping, praying, crying out for healing, longing for a friend to sit beside me. Night after night have found me lying in the darkness, sleep stolen due to the combination of medications, or the questions in my soul. Proud, stubborn, tired of asking or simply determined to make it, I’ve fought to get through the days and to do as much as possible on my own. At times the Lord allows me, at times He doesn’t, and I feel His love the most in those time, when my weakness shines above my determination, and He delights in me when I can quite literally do nothing. There is a complete lack of understanding; simply a fighting with everything in me to cling to the One who has ALWAYS proven Himself faithful, and hold to His words of truth. Resisting having to ask for help, afraid to admit when I am afraid, hating to sit in the chair when I want to pace.
But He has not left me alone. Like never before I have felt the hand of Grace holding mine, drawing me in, filling my heart with joy when all of my muscles have ached and getting from my chair in the prayer room to the car seems to sap all of the strength left within me. And there have been friends, the few who have stepped up beside me, allowing for me to borrow their strength, and determined to see me through this time. Surprisingly most of those were not the comrades that I have known and run with the last few years, but new faces that the Lord has sent me, just for this time I think. Papa You have never let me down.
And my heart’s been breathing, stirring, whispering words that I clung to, dreams that I dreamt. Surly You are a good good Shepherd, and You know just how to lead me.