Journey

Only in Washington does one go to the beach dressed ready for the next snowpocalypse.

Rain jacket, hoodie, columbia fleece, and a scarf wrapped across my forehead, over my ears, around my neck and tied under my chin.

I trekked along the water, wind blistering my face.  Three times the hail stung my nose and bounced off my glasses.  I pulled logs across the sand to build bridges where little rivers connected to the ocean, too wide to jump across.  Remarkably, my socks stayed dry even as I dashed away from the waves rushing towards the shore.

I walked and walked and walked.  Then I realized I was at my beach with my family, and they were probably starting to wonder where I went.  I turned around and walked back, leaping over puddles, praying the cars who drove across the sand would see me, because with the scarf tied around my head, I could not hear them.

As I walked along the path, crossing the sand dunes and entered the little town of Pacific Beach once more, I stopped short of the coffee shop at the rainbow looming in the sky.

Most rainbows I've see are multi-color streaks, shooting into the air.  This rainbow was almost a complete arch, stretching across the sky.  I could see the beginning and the end, but the part in the middle was somewhat hazy.

I found it somewhat applicable to my life.  I know where I am, and I sort of know where I am going, but that part in the middle - the part where everything happens - it's still a bit hazy.

Dear Jesus, I pray that you would give me just enough rainbow, just enough road, just enough direction, so I can keep stepping forward. Help my plan oriented self be satisfied with that.

I love you,

Amen.

Paintings and Plastic Castles

Here I am, looking for God's plan for my life.  I ask yet again, what should I do?  What skills should I focus on and where should I apply them?  In which position will I most benefit the Lord?  

What relationships should I have?  Who should I really invest in?  How can I love people better?  When am I going to fall in love?  

How can I engage the world around me in a way that increases the divine mission on this earth?  

I feel somewhat like a chess piece.  An object waiting to be directed by the only one who can see the whole board. It sounds ideal, but who wants to be a piece of plastic, stuck moving in predefined patterns until we are put back on the shelf in the linen closet, or chewed up by the puppy who found us laying in the living room behind the couch.

Today, God showed me a new perspective.

We, the people in the world, are not little plastic pieces on a grid.

We are canvases of color specifically arranged in the grandest museum of all.

I am a spectacular canvas specifically created to be just as it is.  The Artist has used a masterful hand to create me.  Sometimes I grab my own paint brush and splatter on the canvas.  My unskilled self dabs and dots, scribbles and smears and makes a horribly botched mess of the whole thing.  Then, when I notice the storm clouds I have painted on Starry Night, I drop the brush and hang my head in shame.  

God, with loving, gentle hands, picks up the brush and fixes it.  My mistakes are still there, but he covers it with his grace and makes me beautiful once more.  He never mentions them again.

I hang in the grand museum of heaven, featuring billions of canvases specifically placed on certain walls in ideal proximity of each other.  Currently, I rest on the wall of my college years, surrounded by college friends, as well as my family.  In a few weeks, I'll be moved to the Haiti wall, participating in a missions trip down there.   This summer, I shall decorate a France wall, surrounded by people somewhat like me who also want to study abroad.  Each time I am moved, it is done with great care and consideration, always in a way to exemplify my own beauty, as well as the beauty of the museum.

Someday, perhaps in the not so distant future, my canvas will be permanently affixed to another canvas with God glue.  Together, the two canvases will become one, and God will move us around the museum as is best suited for who we are and what we can do.  

Yes, the Artist, the Museum Curator, he decides who we are and what we do.  But like any artist with their work, it is done with the greatest care imaginable. 

Dear Jesus,

Thank you so much.  I so very prefer to be a piece of art than a plastic castle.  Holy Spirit help me remember what a treasure I am, and how thoughtfully my place in this world has been and will be decided.  I look forward to seeing where you move me next, my loving Daddy-God.

I love you,

Amen.