rooted at the edge

The door closes behind me and I walk across the yard, to the edge of the hill. My hands find the picket fence and I stand there looking out across the valley below.

I stand there and take a deep breath. There is something difference about tonight, everything here seems untouched, unscathed by the haste and striving pace of the world. The landscape seems as if it’s being orchestrated to move along in time. As the light escapes the sky, the pace of things is slowed even more, stilled, quieted, and I begin to feel it in my heart.

I stood there, rooted, loosing track of time because I found Him and I didn’t want to leave. 

There’s no need to keep up with the world because it goes at much too fast of a pace, and if we followed, we would miss the moments like these. . . we would miss Him.

The world can continue to compete to be heard and esteemed and known, the world can continue to strive, but I don’t have to. I can breathe deep and feel God’s embrace, knowing that this sea of peace is the only thing that can fill.

When we give up the need to compete in this world, we can accept that we are complete in Christ.

There is no lack found there, there is no need to be better or do more, because He is enough.

My hands reach up. What more can you do in a moment like that. Then I feel my heart imitating the same movement, soundlessly reaching up, reaching to find the hand of my Father. Reaching for the embrace of the One who would quiet and calm my soul.

This is all that will ever matter: that we open wide enough for Him to fill us.

I don’t need to be heard, because I’m known. I don’t need to strive, because I’m stilled.

Somewhere in between the door and this edge. Somewhere in between my surrender and His pursuit. Somewhere in between hands raised and knees bent low, this is where I am at. This is where He finds us.