“let’s stay here for a few hours at least.”
so much of what i’ve hoped for this summer is right in front of me.
berries on a branch. sunshine. children close and concentrating.
mazzy is crouching low and finding what others miss.
“is there more at the bottom, maz?”
i lift up heavy branches and reveal what is unseen.
i love this day. everything is lovely. every child is obedient. the earth is more like a dream of some place that holds even more beauty than we know.
this summer children have fought and the sunshine hours start early and end late. and on top of everything else, i think i’ve misplaced the will of god.
accomplishing god’s will used to feel like an understandable task. read this, do that, move here, plan there. if i gave enough, it could be done.
but what if i’m not able to bring about god’s plans on earth?
now there’s a thought.
abraham is hiding inside of a blueberry row, picking from the inside out. mazzy is talking to herself, creating worlds of princesses who have buckets of berries. eleanor is right at my side, silver handle hung over her thin arm.
what if god is capable of bringing about his plans on his own? even in spite of me – could his will still be done, even in our lives?
i hope so.
and this wild, grace-soaked idea, that along with all the other responsibilities of summer, that bringing about god’s perfect and pleasing will isn’t on me – that he can do that just fine without me?
deepest of relieved sighs.
it floods like this blueberry afternoon with children.
each one of them making their way down the branches of their lives.
moving from green to yellow to red to purple to this bluest blue, ready to fall right off into the hands of a good god who is able to bring about his will in them.