"I enjoy the challenge," I told P the other day. The challenge of writing at least something every day, putting some words together, casting something of me out into the world on my blog. Hoping to be noticed. Wishing to define my worth to you. Or prove it to me.
But the "high thoughts" I want to share don't come today. Or yesterday, really. Or the day before that. I think it is because sometimes life just has to be lived, and I can scribble out anything I like about what I think of life, but it will not teach me about itself as I write, but as I live.
So I learn of life through tears and worry and disappointment and learning-the-waiting. I learn through toddler-lectures and impatience and grace. I learn through sorrow, both mine and yours. I feel life in the strength of my womb-child, kicking hard against... well, all of my insides. I live in conversations and excitements and unexpected blessings - the serendipities I used to count.
The grass, it just is. From green to grain, it waves in summer to fall, soaking in the blue of sky, the warmth of sun, the rain and wind and growth. And it praises Him, by doing what it was created to do.
If You made me like the grass that is greenI should be so soul-still.
Growing tall and covering the hills above me
Maybe I would pray for sunshine and a little rain
To fall now and then to make me lovely
I could be a place where sheep could graze
Or barefoot feet could play
And I would grow and grow and hope You'd bend down low
To hear me sing my offering
Open up the heavens, open up the skies
All of Your creation wants to testify
I have a song, so let the earth sing along
'Cause I just want to praise You
And the sun every morning cannot wait to shine
And the stars every evening are all standing by to light the sky
Give the rocks and the stones voices of their own
If we forget to sing praises to our King
-Nichole Nordeman, My Offering