Unexplainable
It's in the sweet memory of my Grandpap's smell of leather and shampoo; the way he would twiddle his thumbs while he drove.
It's in the dust of the pews, the statue of the crucifix, and the stained glass windows of St. Patrick's church; where I first remember His whispers.
When I look over the ocean and feel the briny smell of the air as the sun kisses my skin. I watch the waves crash and melt back into the sea. There's a depth there that I can't place.
The silent magic at Christmas. The decorations, the pine, the lights, the tinsel. A universal understanding that there's something more; it implores our soul to believe in the unseen.
The plump softness of a baby's fat leg. The peace that comes when those hands touch my face, or when he falls asleep on my chest.
Weekend trips with friends.
Playing "Casper" and praying with my baby brother.
The warm smell of pumpkin pie at Grandma's and the sound of my aunts and cousins laughing.
A little girl's smile and twinkle in her eye. She's from Haiti, and has next to nothing; poverty and disease haunt her family, but the love and hope that abounds from her spirit gives me a special sense of a power that I want to seek out and find.
A long day on the river; with sunscreen melting off my face.
The silent strength of the mountains. Looking on the majesty of their presence reminds me that I am small, and He is mighty.
Raising money for charity with teenagers.
Accomplishments that did not come from my ability.
Failures and tragedies that mold my character.
A lacy pink dress and braids.
Sitting next to Jon at church.
How discombobulated I am when I go more that two days without talking to my sister.
Sore muscles from a long run, or standing on a hill in Santa Barbara after a long hike.
A picnic on a secret lawn behind a vineyard in the afternoon; laughing with friends.
Watching a four year old learn new things.
Kids giggling.
A quiet time on a rock in Mexico.
When my mom walks into a room.
Africa.
It's a day in July when I stand on the alter. Yellow daisies, white roses, candles dancing. The generous blessing from hundreds of family and friends. Making a promise, not knowing what it means, but feeling the heavy burden that love surrenders. Where 2 is better than one. He is there with us.
I won't try to give credence as it is due to the things I can't wrap my head around. Sweet memories. They are literally unexplainable. We know from life's experiences that there is more to life than the tangible. It's the Lord's fingerprint. I am thankful for this time of the year; when we celebrate and remember His son. When we put our faith in the unseen; in Christ, we become sons and daughters of the I am. He makes Himself known in the queries of this life. My hope is not in these unexplainable blessings. My hope is in Him. But He knows me enough, and can't help but to make Himself known in the joys and the turmoils of this life.
It's in the dust of the pews, the statue of the crucifix, and the stained glass windows of St. Patrick's church; where I first remember His whispers.
When I look over the ocean and feel the briny smell of the air as the sun kisses my skin. I watch the waves crash and melt back into the sea. There's a depth there that I can't place.
The silent magic at Christmas. The decorations, the pine, the lights, the tinsel. A universal understanding that there's something more; it implores our soul to believe in the unseen.
The plump softness of a baby's fat leg. The peace that comes when those hands touch my face, or when he falls asleep on my chest.
Weekend trips with friends.
Playing "Casper" and praying with my baby brother.
The warm smell of pumpkin pie at Grandma's and the sound of my aunts and cousins laughing.
A little girl's smile and twinkle in her eye. She's from Haiti, and has next to nothing; poverty and disease haunt her family, but the love and hope that abounds from her spirit gives me a special sense of a power that I want to seek out and find.
A long day on the river; with sunscreen melting off my face.
The silent strength of the mountains. Looking on the majesty of their presence reminds me that I am small, and He is mighty.
Raising money for charity with teenagers.
Accomplishments that did not come from my ability.
Failures and tragedies that mold my character.
A lacy pink dress and braids.
Sitting next to Jon at church.
How discombobulated I am when I go more that two days without talking to my sister.
Sore muscles from a long run, or standing on a hill in Santa Barbara after a long hike.
A picnic on a secret lawn behind a vineyard in the afternoon; laughing with friends.
Watching a four year old learn new things.
Kids giggling.
A quiet time on a rock in Mexico.
When my mom walks into a room.
Africa.
It's a day in July when I stand on the alter. Yellow daisies, white roses, candles dancing. The generous blessing from hundreds of family and friends. Making a promise, not knowing what it means, but feeling the heavy burden that love surrenders. Where 2 is better than one. He is there with us.
I won't try to give credence as it is due to the things I can't wrap my head around. Sweet memories. They are literally unexplainable. We know from life's experiences that there is more to life than the tangible. It's the Lord's fingerprint. I am thankful for this time of the year; when we celebrate and remember His son. When we put our faith in the unseen; in Christ, we become sons and daughters of the I am. He makes Himself known in the queries of this life. My hope is not in these unexplainable blessings. My hope is in Him. But He knows me enough, and can't help but to make Himself known in the joys and the turmoils of this life.
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