Friday, March 25, 2016

The Small Print of our Days

Today is Good Friday.

I didn't complete my Lent devotional this year. In fact, I stopped part way through for a number of reasons. And, to be honest, I was upset with myself for that fact. I saw the difficulty I was having with my chosen study as a reflection of struggling with Him. I grew angry with my restlessness and lack of devotion.

But, as I listened to a podcast on reading I heard someone mention that some books are simply our guide, meant to point us in a direct even if we don't complete them entirely. And I knew this was a tiny detail about to redirect my faith.

Because sometimes we just need a guide. Sometimes we need someone to push us in a general direction. But then we gain momentum, we begin to take steps on our won. And then that help, the initial push, is no longer necessary.

So, I'm reading Ruth for the next week. It's only four chapters, but I'm going to read it again and again. And, in doing so, I'm daring myself to soak in the details. Because if I've learned one thing in the three months since my dad died, it's that He is in the details. The timing, the pennies on the sidewalk, the poppies grown through sidewalk cracks. That is Him.

Three months ago, I walked in the depths of sadness. It started on a Friday and three days later ended in the dawn of Sunday morn. It was raining that day, fresh water rinsing away years of unnamable pain. And I remember watching a droplet trail maddeningly down the window of his final earthly room while salty tears dripped from my own eyes. I knew then and there it was always about the details. Sad or glad, happy or mad, He is in the small print of our days.

And today, the Good Friday of 2016, we are driving home after a week celebrating my birthday in snowy mountains. My legs are sore, my body is tired, and my soul is a deep sort of happy. I've spent a week staring at the way the teeny, tiny flakes of sparkling snow fall from the sky and join together in an ivory harmony for Him. The pines that rise taller than humanly possible to point the eye skyward. I knew then and there, high above the ground on the ski lift, it was still about the details. Sad or glad, happy or mad, He is in the small print of my days.

All this to say, this is a day -the day- God has made and I'm ready to be sad or glad in it's details.

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