I walked under and my eyes turned heavenward…and in that moment His handiwork drew a word picture on my heart… written in that budding tree.

wood…how does something so soft and pliable push through that seemingly unbending surface? It sits idle for the winter months…unseen activity  One would think was dead.  no life.  but with increasing Sonshine stimulating growth.

for all the seasons of my heart…that seem to go from Ur to Haran and down into Egypt storing up all the words…building altars only to come

to

a place that the words cannot be contained anymore…come budding forth culminating in a clump that needs constant care to form into real living sentences that breathe…that breathe life - value – joy- daughtership – praise …to be able to take the hardness of wandering in the wilderness for years to shape these into whole bites for the chewing and digesting…so that my soul no longer lives deaf to starving calls crying out around the world.

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and Jesus said to her…to me…Did I not say to you, if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” Not just so I can speak but that

He can speak to me…to us from the heart of the fire…burning through the hardness of wood so that the harvest…one little bud turns to 1000…so

How shall the soul in us longer live
Deaf to their starving call,
For whom the blood of the Lord was shed,
And His body broken to give them. bread,
If we eat our morsel alone!”

Let’s be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.— Henri J. M. Nouwen

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