From the outside, our house looks still and quiet this morning. But our hearts are filled to the brim with the graces God has poured out on us. Feathers of steam float out of my warm coffee mug and breakfast smells fill our nostrils so that all of our senses are engaged in this thing we call grace. My fingertips curl around the mug. My eyes land on each of my team mates–each one a gift. My lungs fill with laughter. My muscles in my shoulders ache from carrying grocery bags yesterday, but it is nothing compared to this gratitude that swells in my heart.
We don’t have this community thing down pat. We are caught speaking from our wounds and wounding each other. On long days, we get frustrated. We sometimes choose silence over bringing issues into the light and calling one another higher. Our hearts are messy. But we carry each person’s story with as much care as we can muster. We serve by doing dishes, cooking dinner (or breakfast), taking walks, offering the gift of presence.
Maybe it’s something about birthdays and adding another year between today and the day oxygen first entered my lungs that causes me to be sentimental and introspective.
This life I have lived has been a ginormous gift from the Giver. The entire span of my life will, with eternity in view, be but a breath. But just as the God of Creation breathed sacred life into dust to form Adam, so does each of my exhales echo the divine design of this sacred life.
I bleed and I break and I bruise and I fall and I have deep, deep wounds. But there is breath in my lungs. The blood of the spotless Lamb is over the door of my heart and the Spirit dwells here. These words seems so inadequate, but I’ll try anyway.
Thank you, Yahweh, for this gift, this life.