Barely had I written down the words, instructions to myself for today, when the sound of rain in subtle steady sheets caused me to rise.
I opened the door, left it open and watched the rain fall against the luminous backdrop of day.
The rose petals splattered softly like paint tossed towards a canvas.
I like rain in the morning.
Permission to be slow.
I made a list of “be’s” wondering if it’s just me that can’t get started, can’t accomplish in an orderly manner like before, can’t see things through because of changing direction halfway through or a focus blurred by one thing or another.
With the last one came a visual. Me, in the car, me in my room, me in prayer, me in pause.
Walking and my hand opens to let God have a hope, a thought, a question.
With regularity, I open always my right hand and I give someone or some thing(s) to God.
Prayers that don’t just happen in church, happen any or everywhere.
“Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.”
1 Peter 5:7 NLT
Not until this morning did I think of the act of the surrender from my open hand, a stronger visual of letting it go, giving it to God over and over
Because I grab it again and I keep having to say sorry, I know it’s better with you.
Here you go, God. Please take this, help me to let you keep it this time.
Maybe I’ve turned a corner this morning, I’m thinking.
The “be open” added all of a sudden saying don’t close your fingers in a grip of what’s not yours to handle.
If you do this, how can I lay the very best things in the cup of your hand, the place I designed to gift you like a newborn in a cradle, new things, new joys, new chances,
New mercies every morning?
Open your hand to grace.
Grace and glory.