I can feel it. Rumbling down deep in my belly and in the heart of a
ll I am. Change is coming. Swift and slow all at once, as the storm clouds rumble in and the rain threatens, it’s scent on the air.
Change is making it’s way into my home and yet I know, He is Faithful. It is my word for this year. This span of days that I knew would be stretching and pulling at me. Breaking and molding into a newness that I’m still not sure of. But I am reminded, as he clothed the lilies that he will provide.
I am reminded that there are things which are sacred. A golden chord rapped round my table at night, bound by more than two and woven into the security that is family. He is faithful in the eyes of the child that holds so much hurt and the voice of the man across the desk that looks for band aids and not solutions.
He is faithful in the job that takes and gives both so much, and the newness on the horizon that will lead to more freedom and assist to answer this call. This call to motherhood and the waxing and waning of my goals and the desires of my heart against and towards the needs of this family and this calling.
I will work this year. Toil and labor over fields I haven’t created but have called me to them. I will settle in and feel the flow of the school and teaching, being both the master and the student. I will be tested.
But I am called to know he is faithful. He has both warned me and comforted me with the choosing of this word for this year. Things will change as they haven’t before and time will seem to stand still at that table as the rain plummets down and we wait for the promise. But it will come. For he is faithful.
It may be years before I see the fruition of these seeds, but the seeds are planted none the less. And the buds will come and the blooms will push through this soil loosened by the storm.