Today my heart is beautifully full. Some combination of the open highway ("there's nothing that the road cannot heal"), a luxuriant weekend with my chosen family (why isn't there a wormhole between Meg & Phillip's backyard and wherever I am?), a word from God that stole my breath away and steeled me to a renewed purpose, deeper tenacity, expansive peace and truer love (fortunately my body continued to function and do important things like pay attention to the road since my consciousness was suddenly engaged elsewhere midway through Cleveland), and an evening of unexpected joy brought me to an almost-summer of the soul, and, tired though I am (sometimes sleep seems like salvation; lately it seems like an inexcusable waste of time), my soul at present is a quiet glade in the early morning. Wildflowers shoot like colored stars from the grass, leaves and the trumpet blast of gold-shot sky breathe shivers on the water and all is expectant and hushed, the stillness charged with a quivering deep in the atoms: a held motion on the brink of eruption, a kinesis reverberating joy.
And that doesn't mean that my trepidations don't trouble me, or that my uncertainties don't wear me out in my constant internal war against them. But my confidence is growing that God will "repay me for the years the locusts have eaten," and that "I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." God is with me through all of this, and He is that He is, and therefore I can trust in His love and in His goodness, and in the destiny He has prepared for me, whatever that is. It's going to be incredible, and every bit worth the cost.
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