Entry: August 21, 2017
Today your majesty will be displayed in a rare solar eclipse for many to witness and marvel at its wonder. For me, only a partial glimpse, and since I don’t have the necessary opticals to see such display without sorting my vision, I guess a quick glance will do.
Why do I need the miraculous to marvel? What I want even more than billboards of glory in the sky is Your intimacy by my side, and for my girls to witness and look upon You with desire and delight, in a personal way.
Last night I crumbled, really had no filter to manage the pouring of tears, they just came, choking, breaking through barriers like a ravaging tsunami hitting a serine shoreline. I couldn’t stop them even when I heard the key enter the opening of the front door. I turned out the light quickly so her eyes wouldn’t witness the devastation of my despair.
I try to block them from my pain as often as possible. They too are struggling. I quickly lay down and act as if I am actually watching the episode of light coming from the wall-mounted display of HGTV wonder.
She recognizes something off, even though the TV is on nightly at this time to lull me to sleep. She stands at the door and asks of my welfare. I assure her I am ok.
Moments later, when I feel I’m safe, the pent-up remaining tears make their way past my temporary ban. When she stealthily enters, and places her hand on my back. And gently rubs in a circular motion of comfort. She asks if she can do something for me. I say, “no.” Her concern was enough.
Her brief touch causes my restless heart some needed rest. Soon, I fall asleep from emotional exhaustion.
Her hand on my back was like the tangible comfort of God in that moment. Not a wondrous display of old, like when the magicians said to Pharaoh after a particular plague of gnats: “This is the finger of God.” Or like the brushstrokes of beauty displayed across the horizon this very day.
Her touch. So small. So miraculous in my brokenness.
The display of love.
Her love for me.
HIS love for me.
I read this from a Sarah Bessey post (from her August field notes), “I want to sanitize my own story here, jolly it up, make it more amusing and less sad, to reduce the complexity of it so it’s palatable and actionable for everyone else.”
Maybe that is the underlying reason why I left this blog site, out of an odd fear to display all the bruises and brokenness rising up from the depths of darkness. Fear if you really saw the struggle, you would try to filter it with kind gestures to woo me back to acceptable behavior. I don’t know.
Today is Day 104 of meeting with God at the kitchen table, just the two of us. It has been quite a journey. I read some of the early writings and wince at the pain of my aching heart.
But love is painful sometimes, isn’t it?
And when love is removed without permission, the gaping absence feels unbearable.
Love never ends, even at one’s ending here on Earth.
Yet, if I look closely, I see His glory on display, if I look through the eyes of my heart. Sometimes God’s intimacy is displayed in small snapshots in the day by day and not always in a spectacular backdrop.
A year ago He displayed His Wonder in such a spectacular way, I wrote about it, ‘May I never Lose my Wonder’, I was awestruck. Yet soon after, the cancer escalated, and there wasn’t anything wonderful. Only darkness.
But, in the midst of this writing journey I’ve noticed His love, comfort, guidance, on spectacular display in this dark backdrop.
And again, I am awestruck.
On my run this morning, I notice something sparkle from below my feet. Upon closer look, I recognize it is a broken lens from a pair of glasses. I smile as I take a pic. This visual is His Glory on display—seeing God through this lens of brokenness.
He’s there, if only I look close enough.