Some of us are the busy kind, the don’t-stop-moving-or-I’ll-think kind.
What are we running from in the quiet moments our minds drift off?
There is a landscape we paint with every image and sound we take in, and when we close our eyes or when the brain runs idle, we drift there, and scenes play.
the terrified face your husband made when the baby came out
the roar and the sea under that Highland bridge, the crinkly bag of fish and chips in your hand
the pop-up after pop-up of porn when you unknowingly clicked on the photo of an ultrasound
the old horse put down in the front yard flowers, her mane rippling blond in cold air
What is it for you? The faces, the vain imaginations, what you should have said, the last chance?
In the mind’s eye, where does your vision go? And what of faith, believing in the unseen?
Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
So when the light of glory comes, even when it shimmers in the feel of baby skin, in the gift of a few warm days amid the coldest winter, let the mind take in the scene. Let gratitude mark the colors and shapes.
Practice seeing God Invisible.
Post By Amber Haines