"I will hear what God the Lord will speak: for He will speak peace unto His people."— Psalm 85:8.
There is a voice, " a still, small voice " of love..
Heard from above;
But not amidst the din of earthly sounds,
Which here confounds;
By those withdrawn apart it best is heard,
And peace, sweet peace, breathes in each gentle word.
This was the entry in my Devotional that night, echoing the very thoughts my counselor and I had agreed upon: This is my Withdrawn-Apart-Season. And if I would have had my way, THE SEASON would have been fulfilled months ago. Time to get back to living. Time to get on with PURPOSE. But what if this IS my purpose for now? This withdrawing into HIS Peace?
This time she asked me if I could count the Receiving-of-Love as a gift to be given to my Lover. And the question fell like raindrops onto my parched soul. Of course I want my own gifts to be received. Of course I am overjoyed when those gifts are cherished. That cherishing becomes its own gift, given back to me. So .... can I rest in the arms of my Jesus? Can I see that MY cherishing of His Peace is welcomed by Him? And can I let that be enough?
I wriggle and I squirm.
But it is here, in this rest that I hear Him.
Peace and Beauty: He gives it so freely to me. Even in the garden that cries out for my labors:
He places a gift for me. My friends know that I have named this place, "God's Garden." Where He lets me join in His labors for a time. But even those labors have been quieted this year.
And yet. . . .
The blooms were waiting there, for me to gather. On my first day of being able to climb the hill that hindered these joints all winter, the flowers opened their faces for me.
And Jesus spoke PEACE to my soul.
I am linking up today with TheFaithBarista for her #OneWordCoffe. My one NEW word from the Lord is #Receive:
She seemed to be smiling all the time . . . By the time I knew my Great Grandma Roth, she had lived a lifetime already. I heard ...
As I have been walking along this pathway of Chronic Illness, there are a few websites that have been helpful to me in gleaning information...
I tenderly opened the journal, and its pages almost crumbled in my hands. It’s over 100 years old, after all! And there I saw the handwr...