On silent, unexected feet, she walked in on the mess of me. Her voice just there on the other end of the line comimg in stealth wise. Blessed feet that bring good news. THE GOOD NEWS. Of God in all this. She held my wrath in her very own hands and took a step away from me. So I could get a little perspective. Breathe a little bit, and empty out that tight space in my chest that fights hard not to sin in anger. Fails.
She takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. To the cross. The only orientation that makes sense. She reads to me from the Book. Our Bible. The verses she chose seem written for me. For today. For now. Right now.
And I breathe Him in. Let Him remake me. My attitude. Her baby boy makes gooey sounds in the background making me laugh and flooding my heart with oh so much joy. I know that he is a little messenger from heaven. And how the sound of his laughter fills my sails with this great hope. For change. For reconciliation. For the new thing. For REBIRTH. And for NEW BIRTH. For the harvest, folks. For the harvest.
And thank God for feet!
Bernadette
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