Those are three wonderful words! Contented sigh . . .
It is Sabbath. And I have spent a leisurely morning reading long and slow from my bible and other inspirational selections. Soaking up the luxuries of quiet peace in my own nest. Grateful for His words and your words - all so gracious and undeserved.
To be - here.
What a grace! A gift completely over my head!
I have no legal right to exist. My life does not have to be. Nearly wasn't - Dr. Johnson said so, and all the other doctors agreed. He fully credit's the success of my medical case to prayer and the healing power of God. Miraculous.
A miracle is a beautiful reason to trust. But to trust means to be okay with not having answers, and still believing when no miracle comes. And what if I had died that cold Sabbath morning when gentle hands transferred my limp and bleeding body to the ICU bed? Would you still trust? If no miracle came?
I only know there was peace for me when the world grew fuzzy and begin to fade. A gentle surprise - for no one knows, and certainly I didn't guess, when last moments stretch what one could feel. And there was no tightness, no bitterness, no despair.
Simply surprising trust that God knew and that I could rest. One would think that the strongest trust is born of long experience but my 23 years are very short and my trust fails daily. I can not trace it's origin. And so I learn that even trust itself is a gift. A grace for the moment when needed. Always close for the receiving.
To think that God, the God of all this vastness we live in, would care - would offer me life! This wild yet tenuous adventure. . . And you, dear friend are holding the same. Do you know it? Do you breath it's fullness? Do you trust?
And when the pleaded for miracle doesn't come will we still believe? For desire contrasted in that darkness is the place of purest trust and brightest hope. A greater miracle then the prayer or the answer in and of themselves.
What does it mean to be handed life?