I wish I could have bottled up the morning. Simply to be able to taste it again. The back door was open. A breeze made the white curtains prance. Syrup poured over small pancakes. Swing music erupting from the record player battled the lawnmower roaring through the yard… Isaiah had once again strewn his clothes all over the floor and proudly handed me a t-shirt and one lone shoe. He toddled after Damon, out the front door and down the path. I reminded Ezra to get dressed. He stuffed his mouth with a final maple coated bite and hopped to his feet.
Blue skies unbroken. Wind made my hair dance. We drove down the middle lane with the car wide open. Ezzie put his face to the open window and closed his eyes. We came to a red light and I didn’t turn down the music. “Rise up! Rise up! All at once I came alive. This beating heart, these open eyes. The grave let go. The darkness should have known.”, singing along without hesitation, I felt every word echo within. Then a curve in the road led to trees bending their branches over us. Sunlight was flickering through their leaves. Looking beyond their trunks- I saw fields speckled with cows and broken down structures. My eyes caught sight of a rowboat long forgotten, filled with weeds. An unlikely place for a vessel made to stay afloat. Was it the water that left? Or was it brought to that place to serve a different purpose? Either way, dry land and no purpose remaining, it sits and slowly fades.
Did the water leave you? Did you look around and suddenly find yourself on dry land? Alone and abandoned, purpose lost… every day leaving you a little more faded?
Did you try to find a new way? Perhaps you, like me, thought you could carve your own purpose. A purpose you weren’t designed for, but it dazzled you all the same. Meant to cross the waves, you picked up and headed to dry land. “Go your own way.”, you whispered when doubt crossed your path. But now you’ve found yourself filled with filth you were never meant to hold. Stuck in the middle of a field with no way back to the water’s edge. It’s not too late. Pull out those weeds and cry out. You’ll hear the rush of water coming. Churning freedom is the sweetest sound. The wind of redemption is going to carry your regret away. You’ll feel yourself lift and life will feel light again. Floating across the expanse, you’ll know you’ve been carried home.
And it’s the memory of the past saving, that will tell you one day to hold on tight. When you think you’re slipping away, you’ll remember being carried. Once faithful, always faithful. Keep your ears tuned to the Voice that commands the waves. Don’t sell your soul for a lie and a half-rate purpose. You were meant to sail.