I feel small.
These hands. They're small. (Literally.)
This heart can only hold so much.
Seasons change. The world turns 'round.
And I struggle and kick. I want things to stay.
Breathe. He whispers to me.
I fold my small hands that can only grasp so much.
I fall on these small knees that can only stride so far.
I bow this head that only thinks so much.
And close these eyes that can only see so far.
I can feel this heart thrum.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
Slow, steady, rhythm of heaven.
Beat. Beat. Beat.
This heart, can only hold so much love, dependent upon the Author of Love itself.
At His command, the core of my being jumps with joy at the life it brings. Each leap, His order. Each drop of blood that it stirs, life and love, racing through my veins.
I inhale. I exhale. I breathe His breath, from His very mouth. The continuation of the first breath of life He breathed into Adam. But Adam fell, and He had to make a way that we might keep His breath.
Now, every breath I take in is courtesy of the blood poured down from that hill.
Every breath I take in. Every beat of my heart. Grace.
I am often tempted to rush. Efficiency is one of my favorite things. But as I ponder the wonder of something so simple, oft taken for granted as a breath or a heartbeat, I realize that when I rush through life--I miss it. I miss the simplicity of grace. I turn around, I'm a few years older--and I may have gotten a couple of 'accomplishments' under my belt. Have I thanked Him for the breath He gave me to do it? Are they worthy of the gifts that He gave me for that moment?
My word of 2015 is breathe.
That I might not forget how I am ever dependent upon His grace for my very life, the very beating of my heart. What am I doing with the thousands of breaths and beats that He graces me with every day?