43 Days

Pure Joy.

My heart is so full.  There is so much to say without enough words or even understanding to express it all.

Backing up.  It's been a while.  I've wanted to write...truly wanted to...but there was a block, a hindrance and at the same time there was too much to say.

In the past 43 days, since my last post, I have seen God move.  My grandfather left this world to be with Jesus.  The Bug has grown, learned the enticing power of a tantrum, and rode on an airplane, shouting "Blast off!" at the top of her lungs as the plane went into the air.  The Little Man has also grown, learned how to pull himself up and cruise the furniture.  He says, "Mama," "Dada," and "Baba."  He loves Cheerios now and for the first time I can see how he wants to be as big as his big sister.

This was the first attempt.  That's my hand.  I got nervous.

Does this really need a caption?

Mom-mom and her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.  (Little Man was asleep on his Grandad) This was taken after a beautiful celebration of my Poppy.  Legacy.

 

 

In the midst of these things my prayer life has been set on fire.  I'm praying like I never have before.  I'm praying for my family, for friends, for their families, for strangers, for guidance, for sleep, for patience, for my home church, for The Church, for the future.

It's been the most wonderfully exhausting whirlwind.

As I sit here trying to figure out what to share that might possibly encourage or even inspire others to give a second thought to the power that lies in prayer...the word that comes to mind is one from a conversation I had earlier this evening. It is experience.

Prayer can be an experience.  It can be an invitation to encounter the Living God.  It can be a outlet of whatever it is that has been bottled up for so long inside of you.  It can be a tool...the only tool sometimes...you can use when nothing else seems to influence a situation.  It can bring healing, physical and emotional.  It can change you.  It will change you.

It has changed me.

I'm still tired.  My son still thinks sleep is for other people.  My daughter, like I mentioned above, has tantrums now.  The Horizon Vanilla Milk Box from Starbucks was bent.  It was tragic.  She cried for 15 minutes straight.  Not kidding or exaggerating.

But I'm different.  I feel Him again.  My God is with me.  He never left me.  He did not forsake me.  He has heard my cry.  He says I can seek Him and I will find Him.

So I am.  I am seeking like I never sought before.

I am praying.  I am experiencing His Presence...every day.

I am finding my Father.  I am finding Jesus.  I am finding the Holy Spirit.

I am finding out who He created me to be.  I've been looking for so long.

So tonight, I write to remind me.  I write to remind anyone who is hurting.  I write to remind anyone who is angry.  I write to remind anyone who knows they need something but can't put their finger on it.  I write to remind those who in the quiet moments can hear and feel the aching of their soul and the hunger or thirst for something more.

He is there.  Oh!  He is there.  He loves you like he loves me.  He hears you just as He's heard me.

Put your hope in Him. And, start the conversation.

Glory.  His Presence. Beauty after a storm.