Hosanna Emily's Blog, page 8

March Throwback

Hello Friend!  ♥
This March has been crazy unique. I mean, with so many changes in our world, it's caught a lot of us off guard and shaken a foundation we thought was secure. For me, it's given me the chance to slow down and ask hard questions. Who am I? What's my purpose? What is life? What's my value? Who am I to God, and Who is He?
Finding the answers is hard. But it can be so freeing.
Today, on the last day of March, I'm looking back. I'm rejoicing in where God worked last March, the year before and so many years back. And here's a peek into His goodness + some fun things on the blog from years before.
A timely reminder for all of us with spare time on our hands, in 2016 I scribbled down a list of 75 random acts of kindness . Yes, it took a while to come up with that many ideas. *covers face* But seriously, spend today blessing someone!

2017 had so much learning and growth, like wisdom in decision making .
In 2018, our family had a crazy intro to spring with two dozen animals born all at once. Fun learning times.  *grins*  And then later that month, there was a new vlog post AND my baby sister was born! She's now 2 years old and crazy loved. ♥ And I am officially dubbed me "Neena."
Last year, 2019, was The Torch Keepers' cover reveal!
And God has worked so much through this March too. As today closes and the month slips away, I'm rejoicing in how good, how faithful, how true He is.
I'm savoring new songs He has put into my heart, passages that He used to inspire me, people He brought into my life.
And even old lessons that He is reteaching me, like the blog post below that continues to be my challenge: am I living a life solely for Jesus?





Friend, whatever happened this March or the ones already past, you are so loved. And Jesus has a purpose.
So let's share: how has God been working? If your month was described in a word, what would it be? How is quarantine going for you? Did any of these old blog posts encourage you? What songs have been on your heart?
God's got April and May and June and this whole world, just like He had March. You're never alone. ♥

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.

- Romans 5:1

~♥~

This is Our Purpose || guest post

I love seeing how God works through and inspires my younger siblings! This post was written by my thirteen-year-old sister, and the truth in it is something I continually need to be reminded of. This is what true productivity is; this is what is truly important.

Enjoy!


♥   Hosanna Emily




 


Dear Friends,
Last week was a very stressful time for me as I’m sure it was for everybody (I mean, when do we not have a stressful week?). I was diving into some online college classes, which is still very new to me and letting them get between me and God. Instead of spending time with Him, I would study. Instead of talking to Him about my struggles, I would ignore them and keep studying, kind of ignoring my spiritual life altogether. Then He began to nudge me.


When was the last time that I was your actual priority?


Um…oops. That was my reply! I couldn’t remember the last time I had set aside myself and my grades to draw closer to Him and give Him my life. I thought about that for a few days but never actually did anything about it. He kept nudging me.


What does it even mean for you to be a Christian?


Well…a Christian is a Christ-follower, right?


Yes, are you following Me?


Well, no. Not all the way. But you see, God, I have some studying that I really need to do…


No. You don’t. What’s really important for you right now?

To serve you.


Are you serving Me, or serving yourself when you spend hours studying without even thinking about Me?


It hit me, and I had no way of turning back. I had let the devil change my life and slowly lead me away from God so much that He wasn’t my priority anymore. To tell the truth, I kept thinking about it without actually doing anything. (I’m guilty of that a lot!)
That was Sunday, and that night as we gathered with a few other large families, they talked about that very subject and how Christ ought to be first in our life. I kind of stayed silent the whole time and felt pretty guilty, so the next morning, as soon as I woke up, I went outside to a quiet place with my coffee and Bible and praised God (for me, praising God means telling Him how good He is and thanking Him for some things). I felt this huge burden lift off of my shoulders, and all the stress totally disappeared.
I counted, and at least 4 different types of birds were chirping in the trees; I realized that we are supposed to be like those birds. Our job is to forget all of the stress and let God do the stressing for us. Our job is to hop from tree to tree just singing away with all that we are and with all the voice we have.
I find it’s a common trend in the Bible… all the people that were really close to God spent A LOT of time doing nothing but praising Him! Some examples are Matthew 11:25, Exodus 15, Joshua 5:14, and almost the whole book of Psalms!

So I encourage you to choose a time, any time of the day, and every day during that time be like those little birds and push aside all of your distractions and praise God for Who He is.

I will extol You, my God, O King;
And I will bless Your name forever and ever.
Every day I will bless You,
And I will praise Your name forever and ever.
Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised;
And His greatness is unsearchable.

- Psalm 145:1-3

(psst!) How are you going to rest in God and simply praise Him today? Let's share below! 



~♥~

The Secret to a Beautiful Life

   
How are you and Jesus doing?


I'm standing in this field. It's big, almost endless, and full of ten thousand flowers. I'm right among them, the tender sprigs of grass around my feet, curling between my toes. Colors shine in every flowery face, soft pinks, pure whites, pointed scarlets. When the sun comes out, it nearly blinds me with light.
Every flower represents a different person in my life, someone I met, someone I touched, someone's name I remember or forget. Other flowers are tasks, hobbies, jobs, that I call mine.
My family's there. My friends. Faces I've seen but once. Then there's my writing, my blog, my photography, my piano, my sign language, my job giving the cows water every night. And hundreds and hundreds of others.
The flowers make up my life, everything I do. Everyone I meet.
And I'm running through the fragrant bouquets with a tiny water bucket. With the sun beating down, I try to make sure every flower has enough water to stay alive. I spend a little time caring for one blossom then run to the next. All day, all my days, every moment. I'm filling the bucket, emptying it, trying again.
 But when I stop and look at my field, I see the truth: the flowers are dying.
There's the petunia in the corner of my field that I can't reach. Its leaves are drooping.
The sunflower that I keep watering and watering is dropping seeds like tears, its face falling away from the sun.
There are friends I can't seem to love. Hobbies that I abandon. Jobs I do half-way.
I can't keep up with life. The smell of fresh wind and flower perfume fades to hard ground and arid heat.
So I try to run faster.
And all the while, everyone else has their own fields. They look at mine and smile. They say I'm doing a wonderful job. I'm a great Christian and writer and sister and worker. They say they wish they were like me.
I could laugh. I'm panting and tired, and my field is slowly drooping, kissing the soil.
I can't run anymore. So finally, I'm stopping.
I'm dropping my water bucket. I'm lifting my head. I'm raising my hands.
Because I can't make life work. I can't fix relationships. I can't do anything.
Jesus can.
He is the rain cloud that billows over the flowers He planted in my life. Big, fat drops of rain pour out. They wash the dust off my face. They moisten my hair.
I could dance here, Him doing the work I cannot. When I rest in Jesus, He brings completion, victory, blossoms to dying plants. I'm not abandoning the field; I'm letting Him make it thrive.

Because somehow, it becomes our field.
My work, my friends, all these flowers, they don't define me; Jesus does. They become His and mine, us together. Our work. Our friends. Our flowers.

I do everything for Him, not to merely keep seeds from dying. I let Him water our flowers, and I just raise my hands in surrender, in rest, in praise.
I find shalom in Him. Total completeness in Him. The way things were intended to be. It's a relationship.
So how are me and Jesus doing?
Maybe it's called abiding. I'm not sure. I don't know how to "do this" at all.
I'm just tired of trying. And when we rest, there's this sweet dance we enter in. It makes the flowers bloom the way He intended them to. It makes the air swirl with His laughter, His fragrance.
So put down your water bucket. Go find Jesus, and love Him.
This transforms ordinary life into something beautiful.

Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

- Romans 5:1-2

~♥~ 

Mordecai's Story || Embracing Opportunities

When she was little, I used to pull her close to my side, slip her the end of the silky fabric, and pretend she was helping me sew. I held the needle, tight between my fingers. And clumsy, uneven lines pressed two pieces together.
But her deep eyes would widen. She jumped up, grabbed the finished garment, and held it up.
"It's like a princess! But it's my size! Can I try it on, please, please, please?"
I always said yes.
But right now, I'm cold all over. She's not a girl anymore. She's taller than me, with slender fingers and blushing cheeks. She's a beauty, and everyone knows it.
And today she has to leave me.
I hear her already, her feet slipping down the loft ladder. She's barefoot, like always, her feet tough from dancing through Shushan's dirty streets. And when her feet meet the hard ground, she turns. Hair swings around her shoulders. Her eyes laugh.
The young lady slips her arms around me. She hugs. Tight. Her dress is white and soft, fluffy ruffles around her throat.
We don't say anything at first. I turn to embrace her. We stay there. I swallow hard.
And then she releases her breath. "I love you, Dad."
We part. I can't say the words back, or I'll cry. And a guardian's job is to be there for her.
I inhale deep. "What would you like to do... your last day?"
She grins. "Why, don't you remember? You tore your tunic coming from the king's gates yesterday. I'm going to mend it."
I reach out, touch her arm. "It's okay. We only have a few hours."
"I know," she says, her voice softening. "I wouldn't want to spend it any other way."
She finds a needle, and brings out my best clothes, the silky blue that matches the king's colors. Sitting before me cross-legged, she bites the string, slips it into the eye of the needle, and her hands fly like no one I've ever seen.
I sit here, above her, watching the top of her chestnut curls as she sways to the pulse of her stitches. She hums, slightly, the way she hums when she's nervous but tries to hide it.
I squeeze her shoulder. She keeps sewing.
And I want to cry. Because when her parents died and I took their place, I thought it would be service to tend to her. And somehow, I fell in love with the one who calls me "Dad." And I never want to let her go.
I remember the verses, written more than a century ago. The promise, the bittersweet pain.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;
Before you were born I sanctified you.

God's plan was good; why did it hurt to let go?
She snaps the string off. Folding my garment, she hands it to me and smooths the blue silk in her small hands. She smiles, but it's shaky.
"All done." She stands.
I grab her fingers, press them in mine. "Thank you," I say. "I'll think of you every time I wear them."
She smiles but then grows serious. "Don't tear it again, or I'll have to bring my needle and thread into the royal palace." She tried to put on a stern face, rolling her eyes.
We both laugh.
I look her over. This girl, somehow my child. The soft, white dress on her shoulders. Dark hair. Endless eyes that are soft around the edges.
"Don't be sad," she whispers. "God's got this, remember?"
I nod.
"Your favorite verse. 'Before I formed you in the womb...'" she pauses, prodding.
I finish. "I knew you."
Tears well up in her eyes.
A carriage rolls up to the door, crunching on the cobblestones and loose pebbles. Suddenly, she grabs me. I feel her trembling.
"Shh," I press my lips against her hair. Her silent body shakes against me, and I wish I was taller, stronger, able to take her away from this future she never wanted to live.
"Dad." Her fingers curl into a fist. "If the king doesn't choose me, if he doesn't love me..." She shakes her head. "I'll be stuck in a harem forever. I'll never see you, never leave it, never be loved."
I shook my head. "No, you'll always be loved."
She steps back, tries to smile. Her eyes are edged in red. "Sometimes it's hard to remember."
I still see her fear written across her face, but she's a princess. And this is the story God was writing for her.
She turns, walks toward the door. Then, pressing her fingers to her mouth and then the mezuzah on the doorpost, she leaves.
I follow her out the door. The carriage is edged in the King's blue, matching my garments. Around the edges are pearl beads, white against the sapphire color.
But she's even brighter. The white dress swishing around her ankles. The light in her eyes. The way she smiles at me.
I stand tall, for her, and because God's plan is good.
She smiles. The carriage leaves for the King's courts.
It hurts like a hammer is slamming against my heart, but I keep standing. Looking upward, I blink back tears.
And then I turn inside to put the needle and thread away for her.








Want to do your own study on the life of Mordecai?



Click Here!



~♥~

Hadassah's Story || Living Courageously for God

I'm in the most beautiful place in the world, but I wish I could run from it. Hide from it. I wish I could tear these tapestries off the walls and hide under them, turn them into the forest canopies where I was safe, a child.
When I was Hadassah, I was safe. No one knew me. I meandered through Sushan's market places and waded through cool watersides, and no one knew my name. They saw me, and I was gone. I played then. I laughed. I was free.
Yet my name changed. I am Esther now, a queen.
But these marble floors are cold, even through my leather sandals. I curl my toes, but the painted ends feel like ice.
My whole body's ice.
Arched ceilings that took decades to establish. The scent of lavender and perfumes that make me choke. The way my silk dress hangs heavy on my shoulders, cold against my bare legs. And the tiara, it seems to pierce my skull and mock me.
A million girls would want to be me. To be the strong and beautiful Esther they thought I was. I'm a queen. It's perfection.
I could laugh in their faces.
My fingers touch the closed door. It's hard, wooden, and swept with intricate designs. I want to bang them with my fists or crawl between the slivers caused by a knife's blade and hide. Never be found.
My husband's behind the doors. He is royal and holds the power of nations. And he says he loves me.
Then why hasn't he called me these many days? Why has it been a month since he even wanted to see me?
Maybe he forgot me.
My hand drops. I touch my tiara, edged in diamonds, but it's cold too. My back leans against the wall, brushing the tapestries hemmed in a dozen colors. I fall. Cover my face.
My shoulders shake. I want this to be someone else's life. I never asked to be queen. I never asked to be noticed. I just wanted joy. Life. Beauty. Someone to love me.
First it was Daddy to leave me, then Mommy. I remember crying then, but my uncle took me in. And now I was stolen from him too.
And I had to do the impossible.
My chin lifted, teardrops lingering in my eyes. I inhaled. Exhaled.
Standing, I tapped at my moist cheeks. Sparkly powder met my fingers. My shoulders lifted, eyes narrowed.
People would say I was courageous - Esther. Others would call me crazy for thinking I, Hadassah, could do anything. I was more the latter. I was still a child.
Hadassah was scared and small and wanted someone to save her. Esther was bold and brave and beautiful.
Somehow, I was both persons. I couldn't fight. But the One within me could.
My eyes lifted, a silent prayer.
I was alone, and now I would go before a King and maybe die.
But I was loved. I was strong.
God was here, here in this beautiful room that scared me so much. And with Him, I'd live or die. Queen or commoner, I was loved. Hadassah or Esther, I was His.
And He was King of Kings.

Go, gather all the Jews who are present in Shushan, and fast for me... and so I will go to the king, which is against the law; and if I perish, I perish!

- Esther 4:16

Ready to explore more of Hadassah's story? Here's a worksheet for you!




Click Here!



~♥~

Blog Tour || Amputated by Jordy Leigh

cold and ruthless are her trials - but not God-forsaken


Her old enemy, “isolation,” is back with a new face.
“It’s not like you need me,” she went on as she prepared for her journey. “You might even do better without me.”
Canada, December 2016—For three months, Louise Stella has been a refugee of war, trapped on a mixed forest island in Quebec. Unlearned in wilderness survival, she’s dependent on ex-criminal Ezekiel for food, water, warmth . . . and companionship. Yet with his cool demeanor, he’s hardly a friend, and she feels alone all the same. As winter sinks in and the river freezes, Louise decides to leave the island—with or without Ezekiel. Little does she know that her decisions will cost her an arm and a leg. Perhaps she needed as much to realize that Someone had been with her all along.
Amputated is a Young Adult suspense novella with ills, thrills, and winter chills. It will have you pondering a presence that transcends loneliness. Would you take comfort as Louise does?

Links:

author website
add on goodreads
pre-order
read for free!





Hello Friends!
I am excited for this book! I mean, who else has read a book based in Canada (!), full of excitement and survival adventures, while having it's focus be on Truth? The previous novellas have been great reads, and I expect this one to be equally uplifting and enjoyable.
And what happens when aforementioned book is written by a young lady who has so encouraged me? A blog tour, obviously!
God has used Jordy Leigh to be a huge blessing in my life, both in personal interactions, the truth-seeking on her website, and in her novellas.  And, it just so happens, that she is releasing Amputated, a new, beautiful story for the world!
I can't wait to read it. But, 'til then, here's one of my favorite quotes + why it happens to be so.






Sometimes I wonder what I believe.
Because I've grown up believing my whole life. I know the foundational truths. I know what the Bible says about God and who I am. I know all these things in my head, yet I still go back and wonder.
I wonder what I believe. And this is why:
If I believed God is good , why would I be scared to surrender everything and follow Him? Why would I fear the future, worry about which friends like me, or fret about anything?
If I believed I am in Christ, I belong to Him, why would I worry about the way I look, the way I dress, the attention I get; because wouldn't I be overpowered by His amazing greatness and the fact that I'm His?
If I believed that Jesus' power is in me , why wouldn't I have the faith to move mountains and pray for the sick and raise the dead? Why would I shrink back and let the world control me when He has said "greater works than these he will do?"
If I believed that God delights to answer prayer , then why would I ever stop praying? Why wouldn't I continually petition for His will, continually praise Him, eagerly look for His hand working around me?
And there's so much more. Do I believe God is literally the Creator of all ? Do I believe He knows all of me and still loves me ? Do I believe He has a plan for my life ? Do I believe He is Almighty ? Do I believe He is LORD ?
That would change everything.
Sometimes I have to step back, look at my life, and wonder what I truly believe. And then I pray, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!"
Because all those are true: God is good. He does love us. He is Almighty.
Despite all we do, He is true.
Like in Amputated, despite all that Louise does, God is still true. And He has a purpose.
This is a challenge to me, to you, to everyone. Let's live out what we believe. Let's let Him work, surrendering all, and watch the salvation of the Lord.
The Lord will fight for us, and we shall hold our peace.
And we shall know the truth, and the truth will set us free.  ♥


(and ps, grab a copy of Amputated - it explores similar ideas within the story + a riveting adventure. And it's based in Canada, just saying.)  *wink* 






~♥~

Zacharias' Story || Man Remembered by God

Zacharias' Story

I never thought I'd be here. I never thought it would be me.
But here I am, on the other side of the veil, and I'm trembling like the rumbles of thunder that shake the world in utter terror. I feel like I'm sinking, falling.
With every flickering of the candles and dancing shadows, I wonder if it's Someone. If those eyes that see no sin can bear to look upon my soul. If He knows how much my hands shake as I try to burn incense before Him.
The smell rises up. It's beautiful and sickly and washes over me like a downpour. I can't breathe. It's everywhere, that thick, perfume scent, a million flowers. All around me, hidden under the shining roof of the temple.
I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve to be.
God Himself could step in. He's here. And who am I?
I drop the incense. Something wet moistens my sandals. The perfume is like flowers meeting soiled ground, flawed staining the purely immaculate. Silence echoes around me.
I fall.
And I hear a voice. He knows my name.
He speaks, and the words could shake earth and crack it in two:
"Do not be afraid."
I am afraid. I want to run, to hide, to keep this angel from seeing who I am. God is here, and I am man.
But the angel speaks. He utters words I don't understand, ones I've dreamed of only in my faintest, distant yearnings. He says I'll have a son. He says the world is changing. He says our hearts will once again return to God Almighty.
After all these years. All these hopes and prayers that seemed to dissolve into muddy soil.
God remembered.
I can't stand, can't breathe, can't control myself. It's like this Being is here, and He is ultimate and supreme and everything I've ever wanted and so much more and beyond.
God.
Somehow, I'm before Him.
I can't speak, and if I could, I wouldn't know what to say. Even after silence settles, lights dim, the incense slowly drifts into the air, I'm frozen and can't do anything and don't want to. My knees are wet with the perfume I was supposed to give Him. Somehow, He poured out everything on me.
God remembered. He remembered me and the struggles I have that I pretended didn't matter. He remembered Israel and our yearnings for a Messiah. He remembered. And after all these hundreds of years, He still loves.
He loves.
That God, that overwhelming powerful One, He chooses to love.
I'll never do anything the same. May my life be only to serve Him forever and fall on my face saying, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel."
Because somehow I was like a trampled flower, soiled by the earth, like the incense poured out, but He chose to lift me back up.
I'm speechless.

To give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
To guide our feet into the way of peace.

- Luke 1:79 

And for you - a worksheet to explore Zacharias' life more fully!




Click Here



~♥~

Habakkuk's Story || Man of Questions

Habakkuk's Story

The leaves are so dry that they crumble to my touch. Foliage becomes dust. It falls. Disappears into the rocky sand by my feet.
But it's the whole world. Dust forever, clinging to every crisp bough and the hem of my tunic. It billows up like a storm then settles like sickening mist. It's on us, crawling, stabbing our skin and waiting for us to give in and become dust like we once were.
Sometimes I want to. I want to give in and become like all of them. Because we live in a world of giving up, where no one holds on, keeps believing, keeps hoping. We give up and try to forget.
But I still see it.
The dust is thickening on the horizon, and armies are coming. Soon, the ash will darken our world to midnight; we'll wonder where the Light has gone.
So I keep staring, seeking. There, in the distance, the night rises. But the Light shines in the darkness. Shadows revolt. The darkness cannot understand the power that will one day destroy it.
I'll never give up. There's a people behind me in the walled city who may never know the danger from without, but I'll fight it. I'll let sand slice through my skin. I'll resist the urge to cave, the desire to settle, and I'll keep my eye on the Light.
No matter what armies besiege our city. No matter how many of my own people create their own statues and call them "god." No matter how much the world seeks its own power, comfort, love.
I shiver under this grime. Sometimes I fall too. The mountains still stand before me, but when the Light comes, they'll part to let Him through. The depths of the seas will raise their hands in worship. And may I be found here, waiting, trusting in His power amid the storm.
Though the fig tree may not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines; though the labor of the olive may fail, and the fields yield no food; though the flock may be cut off from the fold, and there be no herd in the stalls - 
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation.
The LORD God is my strength; He will make my feet like deer's feet, and He will make me walk on my high hills.
(excerpt from Habakkuk 3:17-19)























And, like last week, here's a worksheet to help you dive deeper into Habakkuk's story!


Click Here



~♥~

The Samaritan Woman's Story || Discovering Living Water

                                                   

The Samaritan Woman's Story
I feel like I’m standing in a sun shower, but without rain. Or dancing in a snowstorm, but the flakes are all in my imagination, the beautiful, white softness. I feel them, tingling down my arms. My heart bursts. I want to dance. I can’t help it. 
My hands are clasped tight, pressed against my face, and I’m trying to breathe. If it was frigid, I would see my own breath. Today I only see His. 
I see the way His chest rises and falls, every beat of His heart true. It seems to speak my name somehow. 
I see His eyes, that deep brown that penetrates my sin, my past, my blood. They crinkle in the corners, smile lines, and still accept me. 
I see Him, here, before me, and somehow He chose me and loves me even after telling me everything I ever did. The ugliness I try to hide. It’s here, taunting, dancing in my face, and I can’t hide it. But for the first time, I don’t have to. 
He says I can change. He says things aren’t like they’ve always been. Where two people collided, He brings peace. Where the earth runs dry, He brings water. Living water. 
That’s why I feel snowflakes on this mountain, raindrops when there are none. It’s like He took my emptiness and filled it with part of Himself. And I’m overflowing. 
So I’ll cry or dance or scream, and it’s okay. I’ll tell the world; they can’t stop me. No one can. I’m breathing different, living different. 
I met the Messiah. This changes everything. There’s no more longing, no more seeking. Because I’m found. I’m a new woman. 
I will worship forever, in spirit and truth; I will be found kneeling before a God who knows me, yet loves me. Who told me everything I ever did but chose me anyway. 
Maybe that’s worship. I never really understood how or when or where, but the Messiah is here. Now I can’t help it. 
My past is gone. And I’ll dance in the snowflakes to praise Him.

But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him.

- John 4:23

                   

If you want to study more of the Samaritan Woman's life, here's a worksheet just for you!  ♥

Click Here



~♥~

Eve's Story || the First Woman

(psst)  Happy late New Year! 2020 seems futuristic, doesn't it? I hope your resolutions and dreams are kicking off to an astounding start with this brand new decade!
AND... I have a gift for you!
Having a Heart Like His is starting a new series: sharing short, fictional retellings of characters in the Bible. At the end of each one, you'll find a worksheet aimed to start you off with studying the lives of those men and women. You can dig deeper on your own, look up name meanings, have challenges + memory verses for the week, and more!

If you're struggling to be consistent with reading the Bible, maybe this will get you started. *hugs*
Here's the first one. Welcome to Eve's story, and I hope you dig deeper to find Jesus' love in these accounts.
You're so loved.   ♥























 

Eve's Story


I'm a woman with two stories.
The first one's beautiful. I remember it, long ago. Where the rivers met, flowers bloomed. Water drops danced like the fog that tickled our bed every morning, mist clinging to every bough of the trees, every smooth, silky fruit. Everything was awakening. Even the grass was but tender buds, those tiny snips of green that just began to grow. Little animals danced around us. They rubbed my legs, begged for attention. They cherished us.
That was it. There was this huge thing that held us together, held life together. It was bigger than anything you'll ever see, sweeter than anything you'll ever taste. Like the scent of the rain, something deep and mysterious and beautiful. The power would wrap itself around you like the tightest hug.
The name? I guess you could call it Love.
We were Loved. And we Loved. It wasn't a feeling, it was the Person who walked with us. He was Love, and it clung to us like the morning mist.
He was like a father, but more. Every gift was from Him, and He smiled to just see our overwhelming joy in His presence.
When He slipped out the garden every night, the Love was still there. It was like He left His presence behind, and it rested in our hearts.
More than the sprigs of green grass. More than the snuggles of puppies and lions and eagles beside us. More than the cooing of the early morning doves in the apple groves.
That Love.
But I can't find it.
That's my second story - the here and now. Love didn't leave; we masked it. We shoved it so far down that we can't find it anymore.
The ground grows hard with crusty, dry earth as we try to till it. The sun is hotter, air sharper, nights deeper. I'm scared and alone even with my husband by my side.
We lost Love. Or rather, we can't find it.
There's glimpses. Our babies, pure apricot fingers and blinking eyes. The snuggles of warm bodies together. The laughter as they toddle with first steps. The animals, now gazing at us from afar. The hard-earned fruit from our labors.
It's like a tiny piece of Love. But I look up and miss the real, full, powerful effect of God walking side by side with us.
I'm a woman with two stories. One day there'll be a third.
Eden will return, and the Father who created me will once again be beside us. The grass will shine, mist fall, animals dance, all to the voice of the stars that sing His praises.
This pain will melt away in His light. The earth's blood will be washed away. Love will return.
So today I live in that hope. I rejoice in it. And I'll grasp onto the tiny pieces of Love, waiting for them to be perfected in Him. Waiting for Eden to return, forever.

Then God said, “Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

- Genesis 1:26

     


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