Days 37-40 The last hurrah
I have always loved the nights sky. As a child I would lay on my back in our yard and gaze deep into the night. If you stare long enough it begins to feel as though you are floating up there. Peacefully surrounded by the tiny pinpoints of light and the inky black. You also begin to feel very tiny in comparison to the vastness of the heavens.
Last summer Abby and I watched the Perseids meteor shower. A beautiful display of shooting stars streaking across the dark sky and burning out as they enter the earth's atmosphere. We found a dark road, away from as much light as we could, and laid on the hood of the van. The late summer night was chilly, but the sky was clear and it wasn't long before we witnessed many meteors. It was breathtaking.
I feel close to God the Father when I am observing His creation. When I lay under the stars or stand on the shore when the wind is strong and the waves loud. I am humbled by His greatness. Humbled that He loves me. That He sees me. He holds me. He is right here beside me, giving me breath, life, and filling me with His love. 'For in him I live, and move and have my being'. I don't want to be apart from Him. I want to keep choosing to stay in step with Him. Allowing Him to mold me, to re-create me by His love.
These last days of Lent have been full of excitement, laughter, sickness, preparations, and uncertainty. The farther I go along on this road, the more certain I am of how incapable I am of going this without Him. I have sensed His love for me so profoundly it was as if He was standing right beside me speaking into my ear. This is a sweet spot. He is amazing.
I am thankful.
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