And it was good.


When I take a moment

to pause.

To stop my own noise- to stop relating to the noise

hiding in the noise.

I notice



Notice what I could not notice before.

//Glory life.//

That glory life is happening all around me.

Glory living all around me. Glory that so often drifts past my eyes


Unseen to me. And yet.

We occupy the same space,

this glory life and I.

Emotional and physical and thought-space,

the Spirit having no boundaries,

His glory reflected in the life all around me

this life made to reflect God’s glory – Your glory. Glory life.

Yet… so often… I am too busy

to see it.

//So. I pause.//

I pause.

Letting the wind smooth out the rushed; rough; tangled thoughts

that spin


Letting You smooth –

smooth my fear into peace

I rest. Sun warming me. You warming me. Gently quieting me. Light dancing on my face and across my eye lids. Welcoming them to open. Whispering for them to open. And I respond.

I want to catch a glimpse. A glimpse of this.

This glory life.

And you invite me to see. To see the golden light. Golden light that reaches down, stretching and wrapping and winding through slender elm branches to tangle into blades of thick grass and oats and peas. Cover crop for healthy life. Glory life.

In this, I see glory.

I see spiderwebs crafted and hung between elm branches – daintly strung between blades of grass – precariously perched on the edge of a thick tangle of twigs – one strand transformed in an instant from nothing to glory – from plain translucent string into a sparkling thread when thrown by wind into a sunbeam.

I see hundreds of little wings flitting about – working and dancing and twisting through the air and channels of the wind.

I see grass and leaves – wheat and clover and willow –  a vibrant green, dancing in the wind, eating the evening sun, boasting of satisfaction and fullness of life – Glory.

I see Glory.

//Glory life.//

I see. But not only do I see. I also hear.

I hear glory.

I hear cry of the rooster and the goose from across the fields; gentle murmor of the creek as it dances down its rocky path – caressing boulders and stones into well worn, well-known friends; I hear the wind, whipping these well worn pages, stirring the tree tops into a steady whir, harmonizing with bird song, wooing me to peace and calm, welcoming in the night.

I hear peace. I feel peace. Your peace.

I feel the worry etched into my eyes and face and hands and back begin to ease, begin to leave, began to fade now. Muscles and tendons relaxed and skin smooth – free from fear-from tension.

I feel my heart. Can once again feel the life steadying beats of my existence. I feel glory.

//Glory Life.//

I feel the image of God. Wonder and joy and childlike innocence. Glory. And yet. At the same time, I feel so far from the glory God originally intended me to be.

So broken

in contrast to the glory that surrounds me. And yet.


He made me. You made me. Made me at the culmination of your glory. The culmination of your artistry. After you had made all this. This glory.

You made me. And said.

“It is Good.”

And you rested.

So I can rest in the One who calls me good and calls me higher and calls me Home. So I can rest and soak in the glory that surrounds me. Your glory that surrounds me.

Glory to the One who created this. All of this. My body and this heart and this ground and the light. Brown earth and birdsong and lilac branches and rooster call. Cream petaled poppies and thick bladed grass and rocks and fragrant mist. Fingers made for writing and cool dew on grass and morning dove. Glory.

//Glory Life.//







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