I stare at the blank white screen; the page is empty, and the cursor is winking at me. There is a comforting blue background luring me with a sense of intrigue and expectation to let the writing began.
Shall I delve into the rainbow filled with colors of my past, or the ethereal shades of translucent thoughts of the future? To write of my present life would be to present a watercolor of mingled hues that have (not purposely) run together and become a canvas so busy it could be uncomfortable to view.
Using the 23 rd Psalm for my guide, I will choose the path to meander while I contemplate God’s everyday touch on my life. The past is too easy to trace, and the future opens so many avenues; therefore I will dwell for a while in the “now” of this day.
Using “The Message” version for the 23rd Psalms verses 1-3:
“God, my shepherd! I don’t need a thing. You have bedded me down in lush meadows; you find me quiet pools to drink from. True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.”
Echoing the words of His shepherd boy, David, I praise my heavenly Father for He has met my needs this day. He has watered the land, pouring the desired rain, as though it were precious honey, to sweeten my mood and refresh and bless my grass, and flowers, as the towering trees seem to raise their thirsty limbs and wave their thanksgivings toward the heavens.
Today we opened the first of the season’s delicious watermelons, and we ate as though slaking a soul deep thirst. It was messy, sticky, and a wonderful pleasure; it satisfied and quenched a need.
After a very traumatic, dramatic spring and early summer filled with unexpected surprises ~ some bordering on “shock” ~ I somehow had lost the ability to completely relax in the daytime. Yet this afternoon I welcomed a deep and healing nap as though it was a friend returned from childhood, and I hugged my pillow in welcome. The Lord knew I needed to be on the path to rest, and He made the way and took me there.
Contemporary English Version for verse 4:
“I may walk through valleys as dark as death, but I won’t be afraid. You are with me, and your shepherd’s rod makes me feel safe.”
Before noon today and before the rain, we attended a memorial service for a friend’s son who recently died. The grace and dignity of this lady in her 90s and the compassion she lavished on those who were sorrowing with her, was a special blessing from God, a gift on this day, for that hour. And I borrowed them, those Christ like attributes, took them into myself to reinforce the portion I already have. I regard grace, dignity, and compassion a source of God’s protective care for when the unthinkable happens, even if it is just having a long, hard day.
The Message again; verse 5:
“You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.”
Yes, I can literally say I knew no hunger today (remember the watermelon) for our garden produces an abundance of goodies, and I give thanks for that blessing. As I think of a “fuller” meaning of this verse, I give God praise for appeasing my spiritual hunger, the need I have for being filled in each waking moment with awareness of His holy presence. I give Him praise for answering my prayers in the face of an unbelieving and scornful world that mocks His name and thereby mocks me. Now, as I type these words, reclining on three pillows in my comfy bed, I rejoice in my “filling”; I lift my head to heaven, with eyes wide open waiting for His mercy and grace to wash me ~ no, drench me ~ with the blessing of Him, as though I’m just a cup standing under a waterfall.
Holman’s version of verse 6:
“Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live.”
It is late now and time to stop writing, turn off my lap-top, take that last walk around the house, pop the pills, drink the water. As I pass my husband’s side of the bed, I’ll push the button and turn down the force of air whistling through his c-pap machine; it is so loud. I will perch on my side while I don my own c-pap mask; we both have sleep apnea as well as many other identical maladies (another story, for another time.)
It is prayer, adoration, and reflection time in those moments before delicious sleep steels me away. I am captured by the faithful presence of my Lord Jesus as I recall my day and how He filled it for me. I thank Him for chasing after me, drawing me, and loving me. He is my constant and overshadowing companion for forever and a day. “Amen!”
As I push the off button now, the screen will fade quickly and so will I. Goodnight.