rustling leaves

  • Young people you can keep your independence. As for me, I regularly shed tears at the distance between myself and my parents. On a sleep deprived, emotionally sapped day I long to nap in their living room, wake to a country dinner, a talk with my father, and a walk through my mother’s flower beds.
  • I still love the fledgling prayer rooms. Today I led a briefing for one of our worship teams made up of campers. Most of them were unfamiliar with the Harp & Bowl worship model and I have never taught it but loved walking it out with them and then serving as the Intercessor for their hour long set. Pacing and singing in the back of the room I couldn’t help but grin with delight at the rough singing, off beat pianist, and assistant worship leader instructing the team through the regular mic instead of his talk back. It always reminds me of my birthing into the prayer movement, and I treasure the small prayer rooms.
  • Tonight I was ordered to go home, from my whole team. Apparently I was THAT tired. My stubbornness told me to fight to stay, but my fight against tears from the whole morning convinced me otherwise. I’ve spent the night listening to a devo from Joanna May on repeat, reading The Horse and His boy, painting my nails and baking cookies. Talking to the Lord and washing my heart out with tears. He’s a good friend, a good listener. And He gives really good advice.
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