07 September 2011
let the sky tumble.
there's this early bit of morning when the trees ripple gold and the grass is quiet, unwrinkled, and the day seems possible.
and then there's the actual day. :)
it's easy to see God in the quiver of bulrushes, effortless to spot Him in a tatted cotton sky. what's not so painless is to search Him out in the desolate places, to trust His goodness and enough-ness when everything i touch comes up dust.
but right now i'm hoping at the top of my lungs (again) with mandi mapes:
whom have i
when my heart begins to fail
when sorrow fills the streets
and sounds of death prevail
Jesus is my hope
and i know He stills the wind
so take my very life away
as long as i get Him
so let the sky fall down
and earth and cities quake
and i'll say of my God and King
Lord, blessed be Your name.
He's still here. He's still mine. blessed be Your name.
* * *
come on over to emily's for more imperfect prose.