sometimes i feel like i’m not going anywhere, not going anywhere fast or slow or at all. then i see the poster on the wall in our art room which says “the ride is the destination” and i remember, yes, bloom where you are planted. then, wherever you are, continue “unpacking the bags and setting up / And planting lilacs and buttercups, oh…/ i’ve got a man to stick it out / make a home from a rented house, oh / and we’ll collect the moments one by one / I guess that’s how the future’s done”
it’s still the winter, now, but last night as i walked back into the house from work, it struck me that there were a handful of brilliant orange flowers smiling ever so brightly from the decayed brown foliage. just like that, i want to bloom when it doesn’t make sense that i should.
i want to be refined like silver through the fire and a rock-covered diamond under the chisel…refined until the Master can see His reflection in me.
even if it hurts. and i know it will. but His grace is greater.