Boots to my knees, camera and laptop swing over my shoulder as I zigzag through strollers and wheeled carry-ons yelling, “Excuse me.” My heart beats like a mallet banging on a bass drum. Wide eyes and expressionless turn around at the sound of my haste then sway like ants marching toward crumbs. I’m determined to push past the delay, the fear of missing it, to reach the gate. I’m going to the place where humanity and heaven meet, singing the chorus of evensong.
My chest still heaving, I belt into my airplane seat next to a farmer. Vanity Fair lies open on my lap. He catches sight of Psalm 103 printed oversized lying between the shiny pages of Audrey Hepburn. Pulls his phone from a faded jean pocket, thumbing windows while telling me he has that particular Psalm loaded. He looks down, then out the window at the carts of baggage, and quietly reveals a page from his story.
After five years he still prays for his wife, longs to return to the boy swinging below the trees beside his old farmhouse. Admits change begins with his index finger pointed at his heart.
“If we only realize how much God loves us, we wouldn’t worry so much about everything,” he says, reavealing lessons of adversity.
And this is how it begins. Weaving my way through the escalators of humanity, I stop and listen to His message, one person at a time. Their stories of frailty and redemption like index cards of a speech I need to memorize.
We gather from the dog eared corners of our maps to the flatlands of Nebraska, her tawny dirt table the center of our communion. Expansive blue sky and dangling pillars remind of His faithfulness. That life still resides in dry bones. (Ezekiel 37:4)
Writing unites our hands. And love strings our stories together.
Sometimes we take ordinary for granted. The everyday rhythm we carry, so familiar, the heart no longer discerns her cadence. It takes the prism of another leaning on the walls to welcome and name it; her intonation at the breakfast table, the dance of light and shadow.
The warm embrace of community reveals truth from the refraction of our solitary thinking. Love transforms the artistry of being, from common to vibrant and alive.
Empathy calls out gifts and callings from our kindred kind sitting cross legged on the floor. Reminds us that what we bring to the room of our humble beginnings is the paint and nails, the essence of our concrete story. Distraction resides in numbers and views, and our distortions of eloquence.
My lost luggage and the sweat rings on yesterday’s outfit will not rob me. God’s destiny isn’t limited by the daily minutia or the scent of body lotions filled with promise. Because love captures, contains and creates room. That place where heaven and humanity meet, singing the chorus of morning and evensong.
The wise and the weary all sup from the common cup of humanity, redemption dripping from the beautiful cracks of our stories. We’re all jumping tandem into destiny. Sometimes we have to run to the gate. And love, it always waits on the other side.
As children of God, we’re meant to live on high alert, watching for the possibility of divine restoration in the lives of those around us. We’re called to look where no signs of life are found, where others dismiss its possibility. And we’re invited to speak life – words of encouragement, hope, and peace that embody the goodness of God – whenever possible. ~Margaret Feinberg
In Chapter 006 of Wonderstruck, Margaret asks, “When I look at others, do I see dry bones or the children of God?” Will you be a person who sees life in mere bones? How do you breathe life into others?
Today Duane Scott and I are co-hosting a book club and discussion on Wonderstruck by Margaret Feinberg. Link up your posts on finding the wonder of God in the everyday (they’ll show up on both our sites) and join the discussion in the comments and on our Facebook page throughout the week, Redemptions Beauty Book Club.
BOOK CLUB SCHEDULE
April 24: Chapter 006-007
May 1: Chapter 008-009
May 8: Chapter 010-Final Thoughts
Next week, join us on Monday, April 29 for a guest post from Margaret at BibleDude.net where you can also link up your posts.