Wednesday, February 16, 2011

a day for lifting

Prostate. Body pressing into Earth created by Your Voice ("and it was good")

The sheer weight of the whole overwhelms and sometimes I crumble beneath the burden. Faces move before the mindful eye and fragments of words utter from lips. Sentences too complex to speak. But a pouring of the soul nonetheless. "Salvation for this one, Lord... and for many You Love. Healing for her, Lord... and for so many I know." I could use the touch of healing balm too. "And exchange of peace for chaos in that home... and another. Provision for lack in a home of those I love... and so many others. Your Direction. Your Wisdom. Open eyes, Lord. Sharpen hearing. Remove self-destruction, mutilation of his and hers true authentic selves, images of You, created by You. May they pursue, as You run toward them with open arms, robe tucked. Welcoming them Home. Where embrace is compassion and comfort, and welcome-full." More needs swirl and I feel the substance of them on my heart, Lord. "This one wears anxiety as her garment, Lord. It pulls and scratches. She needs exchange... the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness."

And I crawl forward, lift my head slight. Garment of praise...

And I rise to kneel, hands raised. open palms. Garment of praise...

And I stand, head facing sky, eyes fixed upward. Garment of praise...

The sheer weight of the whole falls from shoulders long bent with worry. Fear steps in line with faith and vanishes. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Arms stretch high and wide open. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. I twirl in the Truth of Him.

... and trust.

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