Between Two Lungs

I got out of the car and felt Him there.  As if He'd been waiting on me.  I walked past Him like a dark stranger, closed the garage door, and went inside.  I put all my stuff away, let the dog out into the back yard, and ran into Him there too.  


My heart knows.  My heart knows when He's after me.  When He's hot on my heels.  Lingering there, in all the exposure and all the secrecy and all the intimacy.  He aligns His breathing with mine, so what I take in is full and heavy and real.  Too much to hold in my lungs.


I knew He was waiting on me.  And it wasn't that I didn't want to see Him.  It was, fully and completely, that all I was and everything I was about to do and anything I'd done, teetered precariously on the edge.  And all He is would be too much.  


But I walked out anyway.  


Into a night full of Him.  Full in a way I've only known a time or two before.  On a white sand beach at high tide on a warm, October night.  And a small village in east Africa, hot air and low sky and a wind, which carried the sound of their voices.  


The wind was blowing now.  And the stars had dropped low and bright, surrounded by wisps of clouds and dark, blue sky.  


Those mysterious neighborhood wind chimes sang their song.  


I see you, I said, shrugging.  As if I was calling Him out, I'm here.  Now what?  


And the wind blew harder.


I know You're here, I mentioned again.  Standing on the driveway, arms crossed, tears welling.  But I just don't know anymore, what it is I'm looking for.  What is it I'm waiting for?


It is in those moments when He moves.  When you finally give Him room, in your honesty and insecurity.  I see you.  Even when you turn your face from Me, beloved, I still have my eyes on you.  


He sent others to speak truth into me.  Reminding me of the Spirit, which daily speaks into and over my heart.  Listen, I was told.  It's talking for a reason.


I listened.  And I heard.  But I did not heed.  As is often the case.  We are told all we need to know, we are given all we need to use, we are turned and pointed in the direction we should take.  He told me I was getting ready to make a mistake.  I heard the words of doubt, the words of the liar, slipping out of my own mouth last night. 


And I find myself now, sitting on a porch.  Wind gently blowing.  Bluer clouds on a blue sky sailing past me, tinged pink by the setting sun.  And I'm being immersed in grace.  The protection I've experienced over my heart for the past few years is in full force.  


As if I am under His wing.  


What's good, He whispers as though He's sitting in the rocking chair next to me, is that you know about My grace.  You wear it as a bracelet.  And you, my beloved daughter, belong to Me.  Your heart is enough Mine that none other can claim it.  Though you try.  Though you fail.  I do not.  You are mine.  And I love you.

There's not even enough room in my lungs, as I breathe Him in tonight, to feel anything but Him.