The middle of the year, a reflection of where she is and where she’s journeyed, came to her as a good, profitable and mindful exercise to do.
Considering the words that brought her into 2018 and the inspiration to keep focused and settle her in the way ahead avoiding distractions of so many thoughts and purposes that look good.
She gets distracted and then loses focus. Realignment of self worth. Discipline of owning a word for the year. She prints it out. A daily reminder of value and purpose. Without vision a person perishes.
She takes time. Breathe. Reflect. Focus.
It’s seemingly simple. Alignment of thought, holding only the necessary and letting go of clutter keeping a mind that can overthink from overwhelm.
Ephesians 2 says,
We have become his poetry.
Mid season, middle of the year. A time to reflect, observing where I have wandered off track and what is my goal for the remaining year ahead.
Some time ago I started a shed on my Pinterest page. Poetry of hands.
My aunt has just had her carpal tunnel operation. Her hand wrapped in a thick bandage. We sipped morning coffee chatting over the practicalities of life without the full use of her hand.
Hands, whether we use our mouth, feet or hands for the practical creative, they enable us to be gold for God.
It is a beautiful belonging, for which the cry of our hearts can find our deepest fullness. The ability to dance in rhythm with His grace. We are born of the creator, in His image to bear testimony to His goodness in our own unique creative space in this planet.
Hands are our creative spark.
It is when a newborn is held. It is when the paintbrush creates the masterpiece across the blank canvas. Applying diagnostic hands to assist the treatment. Hands do the work. Typing our way through the book or blog or very important exam or letter. Whipping up a beautiful meringue for the guests. Creating a garden. Planting parsley. Repairing the engine of a car or aeroplane. Writing the notes for the symphony of worship. Texting a friend. Writing an encouragement card. So many little ways in which the day functions through our hands.
Let’s us value the poetry placed into our hands, inside our hearts
Become. His poetry.
We have become. It is the beautiful becoming. We have been gifted with grace unending. Grace upon grace. We hold gifts in our hands. Our own poem. We become because our Saviour called us.
To be a poem. To offer our hands which essentially is giving our hearts.
Our sparkle of life is set aflame into glorious colours of Hope inside this becoming.
We often lose this perspective. Lose the imagination and wonder of it. The writer of the cosmos story wants to express Himself in us.
Gift our hands.
Open them out.
The right way to pray is to stretch out our hands and ask of one who we know has the heart of a Father. Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Hands are part of our language, our expression. We talk with our hands. Perhaps our hands reveal our heart. Often anxious hands tap incessantly or writhe fidgeting on our lap. We share joy with our hands conveying excitement. We draw a friend into an embrace with our hands. Inviting another into our joy or comforting when sad.
We sip hot coffee, our hands round the mug, bringing the liquid to our lips. We savour the holding.
We share a language to the deaf world using our hands.
She calls it the poetry of hands.
Her becoming. Her slow and wild.
Recently I read this quote by Virginia Woolf. No need to hurry, no need to sparkle no need to be anyone but oneself.
The becoming is uncovering the shape of your soul, as Emily P Freeman writes. It’s time to uncover the shape of your soul, turn down the voice of the inner critic, and move into the world with the courage to be who you most deeply are.
May we offer our hands, our becoming into a creative glory that manifest truth always.
His Poem. Her slow and wild. The unforced rhythms of grace upon grace.
Reflect. Slow in the discipline of life.
Wild in her perseverance and courage to complete the race. Gaining for His glory. Ever discovering.
Reflect. Reminder. Refresh. Refocus.
#herfloralperspective The way she learns wonder in nature with friends who teach her the names of the wild woodland flowers. The way flowers tell her story, a beauty in a square offering a remembrance. She traces her steps through the floral border creating her images where words write themselves into her heart. His Words.
She strings them across her kitchen wall.
Her squares of remembrance.
Midway thoughts. Realignment for influence and goal orientation. Inspiration for the ways ahead.
Be His poem. His poetry of hands. His Words. His art.
Influence others in living a power of freedom and truth that’s unique. The small miracles she discovers in her year of slow and wild. An adventure of learning.
The verse in Matthew 11 that captioned her words, slow and wild, the words that framed her journey full of grace and truth.
Come to me ….. learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
rachnotes: Mme Alfred Carriere
Faith. AW Tozer writes, Faith looks out instead of in and the whole life falls into line.
Her slow and wild. Rooted in Faith – ever learning inside her God given destiny.
Designed by Him.
Love Rach x