Monday, March 19, 2012

Why I Love The Wind



Whenever I go for a walk in the neighborhood, I am reminded why I love the wind. I walk away from our home for a mile or so. Its wonderful to get out of the house and away from all these things - into the living world. Everything is green and full of life. When I turn around to come back home, the wind washes across my face and wakes me up to life.

ALIVE
The wind reminds me that I am alive. I feel the touch of the wind on my skin. I breathe in the fragrances of Spring - fresh cut grass, blooming crepe myrtle, dark rich earth. I hear the wind whisking through young leaves. I see tall Texas weeds bending in the breeze. I am Alive.

NOT ALONE
When I feel the wind on my face I am reminded that I am not alone. It's like a kiss from God brushing across my cheeks saying "I Am here with you. Though you may not see me, I want you to feel my presence." I know God is in the wind. I am never alone.

MOVING
My hair is frizzing out in the humid morning air, flying freely away from my face and I am so glad to be moving, so glad to be free. The wind stirs up this gratitude. I know what its like to be stuck, to be stationary. Moving forward is much better.

I could not live where there was no wind.


He walks upon the wings of the wind;
He makes the winds His messengers...Psalm 104



Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Where Are You Hiding?




"Has the man come here yet?"
And the LORD said,
"Yes, he has hidden himself among the baggage."
I Sam 10:22


The prophet Samuel had already anointed Saul as king, but when it came time to present him to the people as their new ruler, Saul was no where to be found. He was hiding.

God told Samuel that Saul was hiding among the baggage.

We all have baggage, things that we carry with us through life. Those bags can weigh us down. They embarrass us as we try to juggle the burdens. We are crippled and encumbered by our baggage.

But sometimes that baggage comes in handy, like when you need a good place to hide. I am guilty of hiding in the baggage of my short-comings, the pain of a past hurt, fear of the unknown, and even in the wonderful busy-ness of my present.

Where Are You Hiding?