Monday, May 6, 2013

Spoonful of Pride

Once again, I offered my hands to write. I looked outside at the damp, at the cold, and knew I had to leave the warmth of my house behind and walk into the rain. The glass storm door slammed behind me as my steps were labored up the slick hill. I stuffed my bare hands into my pockets and thin drops fell from the sky with abundance as I made my way to the porch beneath the old tin roof. I stood listening to the music of the blackberry winter shower, but my body remained warm. I was both thankful and saddened to be out of the rain, because while I was in it, at least I could feel. For a brief moment I wasn't too busy, I wasn't distracted.

I closed my eyes and listened to the singers from yesterday's church service sing "...the battle's not mine, said Little David..." and I saw his hands shaking. The teen held up the piece of paper with the words scripted upon it and I knew he wanted to be back on his pew, but for a moment, he put himself aside, and sang for The Lord, and I smiled at the sweet thought. I could see all the smaller children standing up at the front of the church getting ready to sing their song when I heard her voice growing from behind me. I couldn't see her, but she stood and spoke as all the little children peered at her. I imagined seeing through a pair of those little eyes and watching tears fall from the adult congregation. The piano player also spoke and for a moment I couldn't breathe. Tears fell and a burst of air came into me when I could find none. For a split second, I could feel HIM, I could smell, taste, hear, and see HIM all around me. HE was in the voices that spoke and sang, HE was in the eyes of the children, behind the fire that fueled the preacher, and the seconds slowed down for me to take it all in.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and I was still standing in the cold but still felt warm. The rain drops were now thick and fell in slow motion. They landed with a profound thud as water rippled the shallow puddles I wondered what HE was going to have me write this day. I knew I had to go back into the rain. There was no desire of the flesh to walk out of the comfort but I knew I must.

My feet trotted through sandy mud and I could hear it crunch beneath the soles of my shoes. Still looking for HIS words to write I traveled until I felt the cold. I walked back inside and sat down to write, unsure of the message. There was an overwhelming desire to read The Bible, instead of write. I think I ran through the house searching for the first Bible I could find, having no idea what I needed to read. I looked blankly at the tabs reading over words, Titus, Acts, Ephesians, and felt no desire to open it. I saw a crooked tab which read Obadiah, and I knew that was it. I opened The Book slowly and read the small book of only one chapter.

What I understood it to speak of in the beginning was pride. "Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle....thence will I bring thee down, saith the LORD." I studied the book and I read of how we must not take advantage of the misfortunes of others, the distress of others, the calamity of others. I understood it to go on and say that "all the heathen drink continually, yea, they shall drink, and they shall swallow down..." I wondered what all I would have to drink and swallow down when it came time for my judgement...and I felt sick.

I put down The Book and was confused. I wondered how all this would apply to me, what did HE want me to write, what did HE want me to say? I stood at the back door not wanting go back into the cold rain. I knew there would be nothing on the other side of that door, but my feet moved anyway. I again felt the rain hitting my flesh and this time I could feel the cold immediately. I kept asking HIM, what are you trying to tell me?

In that very moment a loud noise came over the mountain top. The clouds were so thick I couldn't see a thing but I knew it was a low flying military helicopter. It flew right over me but I saw nothing. I could feel it move over as the ground shook beneath me. I had no reason to question its existence, its sound, its path.

I had to swallow a big spoonful of pride and realize that it's not always about me, for me, or to me...but I can't question the message. I don't always need to write out of obligation, out of desire or even, at times, pride. There is a reason I needed this, whether I can see it all yet or not. I can spend all day in the rain and within myself, not figure out everything...but I trust in HIM, and HE will give me what I need, when I need it.

There are things given to us sometimes because someone else needs it. There are hardships given to us, because someone needs to watch us go through them. We can't question the path, the way it looks or sounds or feels as we travel just because we don't see all the curves or see what we'll encounter along the way but as long as HE leads, we'll find our way HOME. Thankful that I can feel, even if it seems like a lot to swallow.

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