Three Days Later…

I’ve been softly singing these words as I wander through my days lately. It’s in these notes that have hung on my tongue since long ago, on that Saturday afternoon when I stood and watched as tongues of fire devoured our home, our orchard and my vehicle.

I find myself on my knees as I ponder what He let me see. I walk a line between grief and awe, of sorrow and wonder. because I’m learning first hand about refinement through fire, and seeing things that I never connected before.

Beauty from ashes, life from the ground’s barest places. this is the thing He has been pushing on me in recent weeks. I have the memory placed there the night that we remember His cry and I repeat it to myself, it is finished.

He spared the House like He spares our soul, with His breath and His blood and the tears that came pouring down like rain as He saw the grief and wept Himself for love of His own. and as I walk through the ashes and embers and charred remains of wood and metal, I realize this more and more.

Deeper and deeper I am sinking into impeccable love that is almost wordless, inexplicably powerful, except for when I experience something beyond my own self.

I watched as my husband was devoured, not by fire but by disbelief, by a heart aching so deep that screams of pain and knees buried in the frozen ground look like an old silent movie, raw with emotions like the fresh skinned Lamb, real and burning, but I’m frozen and what I see, I cannot hear.

“We have to watch it burn” they say, “there’s no way to the main road for more water”. His life…15 years of it turned to a crusty ash, black with smoke rising for 3 days after. We still and they steal straight from the rising heat, like burglars breaking in the night; a home without walls but not without life. I tell myself, our home is our hearts as they are beating and pounding for one another’s energy.

Something inside of me melted, scorched and warped slightly. whispers of what had been, what could have been, but were not. We could have been in that house had we not gone to that first-ever Sabbath meeting, what wondrous love is this. The burning fire that purifies even though we are blinded…

He dwells within her she shall not be moved, He shall help her.
~Psalm 46:5

Because my soul is something tucked away, and He lives in every corner of me, and I’m learning to let Him paint my soul His colours instead of mine, and gently mold me into something more beautiful than I could ever comprehend. and if that takes ashes and ink and clay and soot, sobeit. how could I ever amount to anything, without Him.

So I’m back to the words that I’ve been singing for three days.

“Holy Spirit Move Me Now
Holy Spirit move me now, Make my life whole again
Spirit move over me, Spirit move over me.”

 

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