The night still. The stars encased behind glass clouds. Nothing makes a sound. The moon hides his face. The whole world seems to sleep. Stillness.
Waking up before the sun arises to all her glory. A cup of coffee brews as I roll out of bed. Scrubs clothe me as I rush to the hospital. Each patient a soul, an eternity. Longing to sit hours with each and everyone, memorize all the details of their stories. To pour my heart out about how Jesus saved my life and He can save theirs too.
But my time has not yet come.
Peering into the eyes of forever, of someone who eternity with doesn’t sound like long enough. To study his every detail as if he were art. To map the coordinates of his face in my mind so I’ll never forget. Fall in love with his soul, the man I’ll love forever. To wash his feet, to serve him daily, to be loved by the closest thing to heaven on earth. To become one and serve Jesus all the days of our lives.
But my time has not yet come.
Red dirt stains the bottom of my feet. The sun scorches my pale skin, freckles kiss my face. A bowl of mountains surround me as I look up to the heavens and thank You for Your provision, for making yet another way for me. Making a humble home with a door that never closes, a table that never runs out of room, and a heart that is never afraid to love even when it hurts.
But my time has not yet come.
Your voice in my soul Father, this is your child. To see a life that did not grow inside of me, that does not share my blood but shares my heart. You hand crafted for me to love, to give back to You, oh what rejoicing there will be. To braid their hair, to kiss their face, to sing of Your praises as they drift to sleep, to look into their eyes and know this is what I’ve prayed for.
But my time has not yet come.
Carrying a life inside my womb. Craftsmanship of the Creator. A soul, an eternity, a living breathing life. To harbor something so delicate, so precious in Your eyes. To house a human. Pain. Skin touching skin. It’s all worth it. To look at my gift for the first time, to feel tiny breaths of warm air on my chest, to love so deeply. To give back to You.
But my time has not yet come.
To suffer. To suffer for Your names sake. To tell each and every soul I meet of You, of Your mercy and grace no matter the cost. To face adversity with joy, to bear pain with gladness, to have you walk with me hand in hand through the fire. Whatever you want for me. May it be sorrow or serenity, pain or prosperity. You never promised happiness but You did promise my soul peace.
But my time has not yet come.
What has come is secluded communion. Just You and I. You make me lie down in green pastures, you lead me beside still waters. You strip me of it all except You. You make me lie down, you hush my busy mind. You prepared a table in the garden You grew for me so I would sit and dine with You, a holy communion.
My time has not yet come but our time has.
