Five minutes is all it takes to speak loud and brave. Five minutes, and those words can be let loose to do their best and worst. As Lisa-Jo Baker says so well over at Five Minute Friday today, ‘I believe because someone else wrote it down and left a road map.’ This week the word prompt is BLOOM #fmfparty.
They have been long, long and very dry years. This last decade… what has happened to me? My friends shared a reunion photo, and we looked so fresh-faced. I lament the hemmorage of life since that camera clicked.
Oh, what hope I still carried then! The adventure I left on shortly after that photo was taken… how was I to know the tears I would soon encounter? The battles, misunderstandings, trials, failure?
My heart searched on, ever more desperately seeking to thrive, and to live faithfully. The more I tried, the more things seemed to unravel. Each time, seeking faithful companions. Each time, searching for a home for my heart, a place and a community where I could bloom. I found myself in desert.
I couldn’t understand it – like reading the ingredients on a grocery purchase, it all seemed there, on the label. But in the eating, I found myself still starving, craving vitality like a child developing ricketts. I was crumbling inside for want of Life.
The dust of my emotions swirled in the winds, the cracked soil trapping my roots immobile hindering any growth, or any escape. My ache simply grows ever deeper. Every morning, I ache. And it becomes a physical ache, a visceral longing for the only One who can satisfy. Yes, ‘as the deer longs for streams of water, so I long for you, O God.’
The heavy air swirls too. Thick, oppressive building. As if I wasn’t wilting already, the weather turns and the air crackles, ready to explode. My limbs feel dead, I can hardly move for the thickened atmosphere. Can it get any worse? Last night, the explosions came – sky turns electric, flashing, angry. The rain follows, a deluge lashing my windows… there was little sleep last night; I just trembled.
And I wake again this morning, tired. The sky is blue, but the world looks humbled. I’m humbled. The earth got a drink last night, and so did my soul – in the midst of the storm, after the oppressive heat, something came to humble me.
The waters run to the low place, and my roots can feel it. I still look withered and wilted – in soul and body. But my roots know now there’s hope for fruit ahead… they’re drinking even as we speak.