Under the Sun

At first the walls were all I could see. Bare, peeling, grimed by fingers too young to know the trail they left behind. Contained within was my little life. The space was small, but it was Home.

A little thinking, a little stirring in the soul can change things.

The walls grew roots, tangled and labyrinthine. But solid. Immovable.

The walls grew branches, taut and supple. They started to bloom.

I began to hear a sound beneath my feet when I went to bed at night, a slow sound that isn't really a sound at all. It was the sound memories make when they're covered in dust and you start to sweep them off. It was the sound of whispers behind walls and around corners. It was a sound that let me know I was not alone, a reassuring sound.

The first one to come was the robin. Straw by straw, with a strand of yarn and a few threads of hair to give some character, a nest took shape in the crook of two of the lower branches. Not long after I heard the unmistakable cries of young life, hungry for the stuff that helps it grow. Chirps, buzzes, pecks, and chatters began filling my ears during the days. And they all said, "Live. Live, live, live, live..."

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It has been many months since I last posted. I've been too busy living to write. All the words I possessed found their way into journals and into a few close friends' ears. 

But to give the rest of you (all 2 of you) just a taste, life has been shaken out and turned upside down since I last posted. 

I feel at least 15 years older. 

And at least 15 years younger. 

I know only a few people read this blog, and even you have probably given up on me by now. But if you're reading this and you want to know how a few months made years' worth of difference, just let me know. 

Because I want to tell you about being broken and emptied out, about being filled back up, about mysteries, about love and impatience and learning contentment. 

That's been my life for the past few months. Perhaps it sounds pretentious. But I don't mean it so, not one bit. It's just that it's 10:56 at night, and I have students to teach tomorrow. Patience requires sleep. Yes. Yes, it does. 

But, golly.

God is good and real and true, and Christ reaches deep. 

Hallelujah.