Maybe it was the walk in the hills.  The two of us, hand in hand on a lonely stretch of country road.

Or the picnic by the pond, sun warming our backs and not another soul in sight.

Or the tree tops, wind whipped, sounding like a far away bamboo chime hanging from the hand of God.

Maybe it was walking across the footbridge, Chemung River sparkling at sunset.  Horizon whisked clean by a rain shower that crisped the clouds, and Dearest Husband pulling me close, shield against the brisk early evening.

Or the simple meal shared in the landmark 1939 Wellsboro Diner, gas street lamps lighting the picturesque village as heavenly shades of night were falling.

Or perhaps it was the crystal clear waters of Keuka Lake – where legend has it Hoagy Carmichael penned his famous melody “Stardust” in 1927 — and seeing the finger of God all over this beautiful Finger Lake.

Or maybe it was just You, my Father.

You in all these lovely things…

Hand-painted, heart-touching gifts during Easter weekend, filling my basket to the brim, each one as pretty as a brightly colored egg.  Each one tugging at my heartstrings, drawing me in.

And me able to hear Your whispers easily with a heart less cluttered. Away.

Far from the madding crowd and the going through the motions of everyday existence. Where work and bills and responsibilities pile high, attempting to smother Your life giving breath.

Making me short of breath.

The breath of Your spirit.  Breath of Life.  True essence. The one You created me to express.

Nugget of art placed dream deep within my heart.  One tiny little chip in Your mosaic masterpiece. Wisps of color that together display the hue and cry of Your great Love.

Creating unique, one of a kind living works of art in each of us to bless the world and neighbor next door.

And that nugget, with the chewy center I’ve nibbled on far too long without fully digesting and assimilating, is the scrumptious flavor of my life in You.

Yet in all its gooey goodness, fear tethers me to a crippling daily doze. Performed by rote, without thinking; automaton sometimes doubting there is an alternative.

Jeremiah plans for me {and you} are more real than what I see.  When holding fast to Truth, I am energized.  Heart takes flight like a glider soaring soundlessly on the wings of the wind above Harris Hill in the Southern Tier.

Free falling into Your everlasting arms. Those arms that have never once let me go…Not once.

And when I really listen with my heart to Your softly spoken words of love and life then I am living in the center of Your will.  The most alive.

Dreams coming true…hearts being mended, both mine and others.

And this is the truth that stirs an ache in my heart…

The truth I want to be…

With You, like You, living with passion beyond the constraints of life in a box with a blinking screen.

Oh, deep ache of delirious pain, give no rest till I break free.

So that what I long for…You…is found more than ever before, and Life like a fountain, gushes.

Purpose fulfilled as worship. Your glory shining through my tear stained, dirt smudged earthen vessel. The glory of the risen Lord, Jesus Christ. Son of the Living God. Made man that the Father might be revealed to us in all His immense, unending, tenderhearted love.

Keep stirring the ache that echoes, my Lord.

Even though my Jesuschick-enlittle heart beats faint when Your plans stir the pot, status quo bubbling over. Help me abandon all practicalities which bind me to this shadow life.

Lion of Judah, roar what is real.  Devour doubt, deafening its taunts. Fill me with fire, power and courage.

So that trusting You {clinging when I shake scared} I’ll go where You lead and do what You have called me to do.

And the echo I hear will be the desire of my heart calling back to You.

Two hearts as One, beating wildly as life abundant pulsates with possibilities…
~sheila

Photo credits
Hands by our good friend David Polczynski
Lion compliments of Stillmaza