Prepared. What does it look like to be prepared? Can one know fully what is coming and have order ready to meet the moment?
Prepared. For dinner? For the event? For loss? For love?
Prepared....I can't see what is coming.
For reasons that the Lord knows and I can't see, I will be loosing another one of my fondest friends. Not in total loss, but in spacious loss. I have a big family. Three hours might as well be three days. I had a great loss five months ago, and here I am loosing again. Is their preparation to loosing a dear, daily friend. My morning, understanding, exercise partner who can read my grunts and not take personal not enough words or too many words?
Seasons seem to be cycling too fast. So much change. In me around me. My pulse still seems slow, but slow moments are rare and surprisingly awkward. It takes time to settle in and rest after the rush about of a family needing to be loved.
The flexible never get bent out of shape.
We just keep being bent and remade. Some bends make us a great deal stronger. Others weaken us and we must be reinforced. Its a wise person who knows the difference. Who knows and understands themselves, so that others are not harshly bent while being allowed to be made weak.
I rest amidst all this because of one thing. I am a pot in progress. My maker is the potter and He has not set me to dry. Yet. I am still wet clay being worked and formed. I was taken as a small child when I asked to be put on His wheel, and not once has He left me spinning. All the while my emotions, vision, and unbelief work to hold my own stubborn way, but I will work hard to be flexible. I will rest. I will allow the tugging, the adding, the taking away. The scraping and carving. Sometime He spins me and other times he builds me with His very own sensitive, quiet, intentional hand. But the one thing I know is that He never once has turned away from me. I see where He has held me steady. Not allowing the structure of my life to collapse. Because that structure in me...it is Him.
So old things dwindled make space for new things. This beautiful weaving of threads and joys and sorrows and fresh life.
I trust the Potter, I trust the Weaver, the greatest painter who has never painted the sky the same. Not even one sky matching another. Ever. He has never created two things absolutely identical. There is always somethings different....people, trees, flowers. My creator is the ultimate Creator.
I will rest in His hands.
The only space where I am safe.
I will not break.
So I am prepared. To do the good thing. To Rest and trust. Wait and love. Pray and hope. Work and care. I am prepared to go. To see and do. To give and share. To take the joy in my heart and spill.
"Prepared Flexibility"
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