I wake this morning to patches of hazy sunlight, but I smile and take it because it’s not raining.
It. Is. Not. Raining.
I might just dance.
I putter around the house and have a Diet Coke at 6:30 and bake bacon in the oven and the house smells like grease before 7am.
I smile because I can think of no better way to start my day.
And I smile because I know God is up to something.
Depending on how you look at it.
From my view, it seems small.
And I’m learning to love the small.
I think when God moves in the smallest of ways, like whispers or brushes against skin, I feel the most loved.
The most thought about.
And I am moved to know Him a little more.
This morning, while my house sleeps, I think about the little church at the YMCA, the one with the folding chairs and weekly offering of donuts and props made by the warehouse manager/pastor, and I think this is how God has chosen to show His love for me and that warehouse/pastor of mine.
In the small.
A year ago, I would have told you that I felt like God was punishing us by sending us here to plant this church.
This morning, I know He sent us here to demonstrate His great love for us.
I scroll through the some 350 posts I’ve written over the last year and half and I cringe at some parts of this story, this story of our being made small, and I am tempted to move some of my words to the trash can.
But I won’t.
I’ll leave them.
And I’ll keep writing all the parts of the story, especially the hard and ugly parts, so that you may see the greatness of God in the smallness of us.
I thank you for the grace you have given to me, to my family, to our red headed pastor, and my prayer is that as I commit to being authentic and transparent here, you continue to pour out grace upon grace upon grace. This story is not my own and I am trusting Christ to do with it what He so chooses. Thank you for encouraging me to keep on keeping on and I thank you for praying for us as we continually pray, Anything, Lord. We’ll do anything.