PS. Dear Instagram,
Thank you for making the life of the every day blogger infinitely. . .
well, better, in every way.
This morning, I was packing sack lunches with as much satisfaction as I’ve experienced in the entirety of my life (in sincerity).
Tears of gratitude streaked across my face as my soul joyously proclaimed, “What else matters, but lunches?!” (Yes, this description truly necessitated the ridiculousness of language like, “joyously proclaimed,” so get off my back.:))
In that messy moment, not a thing in the world mattered to my heart more than the mouths those lunches would feed. Not a thing.
“Our shadow by day” is a line from a hymn that I love. (Read the lyrics here or listen here: verse 3, where the men bust it out a capella??? Woooooooosh.)
Our shadow by day. . . I never realized the significance, until I moved to the desert. The difference between the shade and the beating heat of the sun, can very literally mean the difference between life and death.
The spiritual parallel is astonishing.
You see, I’ve felt so broken. So disoriented. So utterly small and completely overwhelmed.*
Then, I stepped into the shade. I stepped into His rest. And nothing has been the same.
As I actively seek my Father in Heaven, I find him. As I actively seek that spiritual shade, so to speak, my life is more fulfilling in every way that truly matters (and in most of the ways that don’t).
My brown paper sack at 6 in the morning . . . my shadow by day.
No matter how you slice it, God is there, and He is great.
(Psssst. You matter to Him, SO MUCH, by the way.)
*These feelings are part of the path we walk, those of us “who know.” All of these feelings are lingering symptoms of the journey through grief. That said, they are also symptoms that come as the result of other overwhelming, life shattering, circumstances faced by each of us every single day. Please don’t think that I’m EVER trying to compare battle wounds. Because I never am.