Every sunrise that I greet is another opportunity to experience more grace, more hope, more joy, more peace, and more wonder and awe. Sometimes anxiety and impatience try to steal the excitement of discovering all of this. The walls of connecting rooms which I live attempt to confine the grandeur of God at work…God revealing his glory.
I pick up a magnifying glass to see what I’m missing.
I must inspect what God has promised in his Word, and to expect to be filled with wonder and awe.
To live life simply big…to be ready for more. I pray the Lord’s Prayer…”Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done…” to want nothing more than God’s glory and His will, to live and breathe His wonder and awe within these walls of connecting rooms…and beyond this place, for His Glory.
Here is a photo of my grandchild inspecting the wonder of a ladybug. It took a lot of bravery for her to hold a little insect in the palm of her hand. She was afraid because she didn’t like the feeling of the bug touching her skin.
Funny how the small things can be scary for us.
It’s in those small things that remind us of God’s infinite grace and love that will overwhelm the scary things so we can live experiencing more. Dig deep into your memories of your first experience of wonder and awe of God’s grace in your life.
My grandchild is brave with a ladybug and it brings back a personal memory in my childhood of holding a snail…sliding on my arm…a snail with a broken shell. This simple life was sliding along a path in my mother’s flower garden. I noticed the shell was cracked. Carefully, I picked up the snail and held it in the palm of my hand.
I brought the snail, with it’s cracked shell, to my mother because she could fix everything broken. She quickly found white bandage tape and scissors and promptly taped the broken shell. Then she brought me an old shoebox and walked with me outside, while I held the snail, with its broken shell, secured with white tape.
My mother pulled up grasses and found pebbles and a little dirt to put inside the cardboard shoebox for my wounded snail. And there it stayed. I watched it move about for many days. I held it in the palm of my hand and it would move slowly out of its shell along my skin.
One day, I released it back to the garden, with the white tape still holding the shell secure.
I can’t help but see the resemblance … I am broken and bandaged … by God’s grace.