Forget what it looks like to reach out to someone because of what Twitter or FB says. Forget what it looks like to reach out in a revolutionary way to form a bridge. Forget what it looks like to just be your common self.
Through my questions, I learned that God gave my sister a miracle. He provided my family with one too. He allowed us to know this incredible woman. He gave her the gift of salvation and eventually brought her to Heaven. And He showed me that it was okay to grieve, and that it made me a real woman with real emotions.
Whispers of Rest was alike her previous book in style, approach, and tone. I expected a different avenue of thought but was not terribly disappointed. I felt the book was more of a journal than an illuminating read.
On the outside, there wasn’t a girl closer to God than me. But on the inside, I was full of doubt. I begged for salvation at every altar call, repenting for being broken and traumatized.
When it comes to marriage, we expect to begin only once. So much so that many brides plan the commencement event for months, carefully selecting flowers, dresses, and really good cake.
When the war is over and the ground tilled
a new bloom will make home in her spirit
Ma reminds me of struggle and strife
Take care of your own and to God the rest.
Insert chill ambiance set to a playlist of lyric-less hip hop songs, nearby an arsenal of books and a revolving wish list of required reading. In two hours, I will begin to ready myself for a one hour commute to my full-time job. I will listen to podcasts the entire drive there. I will park my car and jot down, in my bullet journal, all ideas that are still lingering around able to be captured on paper.
Just like this hillside, my soul has been scorched by fiery trials. For many years, I waded through the thick black smoke as my soul was left desolate, dry, and gasping for air. All signs of life were stripped away, leaving only a remnant of skeletal remains. I felt forsaken and forgotten. It was hard to imagine my soul flourishing again.
I heard God whispering to my heart when I read that story. You like to bake…what is his favorite dessert? I remembered how much he liked cheesecake. Working up my nerve, I invited him over for supper on a Sunday night. He agreed, and I prepared our home, a special meal, and my heart for his arrival.