The rain is pounding on the black street, filling it with wide puddles; a stream running alongside the curb. Trash awaiting pick up under the tree, sagging in the water blown on to it. Where is the light? But dawn rises in the gray sky, as treetops sway in the autumn wind.  Meaning is hiding, until waterlogged gratitude lifts its head. The trees drink, the reservoirs fill, the flowers still holding on from summer nod approvingly in the breeze. Wind and rain are forces we turn our heads from. Yet these provisions keep safe the "taken for granted" on our tables and in our scope of beauty. From inside I see its value. When I'm standing in it, I just long to get away and take cover. Life's rain and wind--can they too be a form of Gods provision?

The flat pink planes with golden hue stretch across the far portion of the sky like a promise in the distance waiting for its time. To their left, a bright golden light permeates the white clouds now in the spotlight.  Timing is the word the sky is speaking.  Here and now, coming soon, bending toward that which is hoped for. We move about in the pace of the world while our lives are drafted in the timing of the Lord. Promises that hold a place will come when ready and given the nod from God. All the beauty, all the plans, all the hopes have a perfectly timed purpose. We wait, we wonder, we worry.   Love paints the sky for response, until His promises prevail.

The defused spray over the roses saturates the ground for growth and showers the thirsty petals. However, to the roses it appears like a storm with billows of rain unceasing flowing over their heads. It reminds of how we feel when God allows the rains in our lives. Whether a literal storm, or personal trial, it's producing growth, strengthening our foundations, and lavishing nurture on us that we need; all the while seeming like an unrelenting disturbance, chaos or worse. There are times we can't see through the rain clearly to the purposes for which they come. That storm we are running from may just be the sustenance we need to keep growing.

When the mind needs to rest
Let it rest on you Lord.
May my spirit surpass my brain and sing praises to you without intention
May my soul be lifted up in spirited refreshment from the simple joy of opening to you. No control, no agenda, no concern, no disappointment. Just open to the winds of your Spirit blowing gently through me. You being you, while I am me, plus nothing--is everything.
Trying too hard is the condition of the mighty missing Grace.
Can we let go; can we forget, and just face the Son, with nothing else to prove?

Isn't this what God really means when He says to come to Him, all who are weary; and where the Psalmist exhorts us to cast our burdens on Him? Being.  With Him. And He will give you rest...

How can anyone look at nature-- the great expanse of blue with a ledge of clouds gilded in gold, and the sun shining rays in all directions awakening all around it-- and not want to know the God who created it; not want to be close to this master of beauty, and mercy; to not want to worship with your spirit the presence of peace that stands behind it all?

In the small green leaf amidst the cluster along the tree top, is a minute universe of detail that lives attached to the rest of the world we see--the stem to the branch, the branch to the trunk, the trunk to the soil the soil to layers of minerals that extend to other elements, that touch all other trees and growth, that touch the atmosphere, that connects us by gases to other galaxies and more. Oneness is not hard to find as we are all connected--physically not just spiritually. Nothing is separate, and God encompasses all, permeates all, and brings life to all.

What do you think?