If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I enjoy participating in daily memes. I don’t do them every day of every week, but when I think about it, I enjoy playing along with Not Me Monday, Top Ten Tuesday, Wordless or Wordful Wednesday, Thankful Thursday, Friday Fill-Ins, and Straight Out Of the Camera Saturday.
But there was nothing for Sunday.
I’ve looked around online and never found anything that really “grabbed” me for Sundays. So I thought Sunday would be a good day to rest from blogging. (My newspaper column runs every other Sunday, but since they put it on their website, I don’t post it here til Monday, as a courtesy.)
Anyway, this morning during church, I felt inspired to make a weekly Sunday post about what’s on my mind, spiritually. Or maybe that should say, what’s in my spirit this week. How God is dealing with me. The deeper thoughts ping-ponging around my brain.
You get the idea.
Someday I’ll share the story of my spiritual journey with you. It’s long, and knowing me, it’ll be rambling. Parts of it are interesting, some are downright amazing, but most of it is just the story of a quiet person living the life God has given her, looking to find Him in the everyday events of life, and thanking Him for all He’s given—sprinkled liberally with laughter.
Because if you can’t laugh, especially at yourself, what good is life?
A verse my pastor shared this morning reminded me of this passage from Romans 1:20:
“But the basic reality of God is plain enough. Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can’t see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being. So nobody has a good excuse.” (The Message Translation)
My family didn’t go to church when I was little, but I think I always knew there was a God. My will didn’t catch up with my heart until I was a young adult, but that’s OK. I needed what I went through to make me who I am today. I believe that’s true for all of us. As my friend Tiffany said the other day, if it’s your path, it’s pointless to follow any other.
I think I’ve finally reached a mature enough place in life to be happy walking my own path, at my own speed, doing what I’ve been created to do—not fretting over what I can’t do, but celebrating and using the abilities He placed in me at my conception.
And part of that is to use my voice to share His greatness. Just look around you—you don’t have to look far to see Him.
“So I say to you:…seek and you will find….” (Luke 11:9 NIV)
I see Him in the sun outside my window, that has shone faithfully my entire life, and through all the generations before me. It is just strong enough to keep us alive, just weak enough to not burn us up, and perfect for growing the plants that fuel our bodies each day.
I see Him in my laughing baby boy. Eighteen months ago, he was two teensy cells that joined and somehow multiplied into all the intricate systems that make up his adorable, chubby body. I hear the joy of God in his laughter, I feel heaven in the pureness of Jonah’s love. And I see my own need for a loving Father God in my son, when he reaches up for me and smiles when I hold him, and how he seems lost when I step away.
And as silly as it may sound, I see God in this cut that is healing on the back of my hand. I did nothing to make it heal, but the edges knit back together, and the redness will fade until only the smallest shadow remains. How is that not a miracle? And even these hands of mine, that are now covered in fine wrinkles of time, these hands that can type stories, and paint portraits, and thread a needle—they are miracles.
There’s a song we used to sing at our previous church called “Creation Calls.” At the risk of sounding like my mother (who is always telling people what to do at her funeral): when I die, somebody please—play this song. Because if my last message to the world could be one thing, I’d want it to be this: Everything is a miracle if you believe.