Breathing Is Like Tasting

I sit and ponder, as I soak in the movement of God’s existence. 

Breathing is like tasting something so delicious. Just want to savor each portion of this dance. Releasing air somehow fills rather than empties. And inhaling gives room to do it all over again. 

What is in the wind? 

What artistic pattern is the roam of my heart? 

Do my thoughts delicately paint beautifully before the throne? 

Has the heavens prepared for this round of love?  

Was the whole of my life designed for this moment? 

Is this cry escaping my expanding realm of emotions, the notes of collected oils to pour upon and within the city of my God? 

Can love like this sing and become such oil of gladness? 

The search happens 

and I fall toward the One 

who heals all brokenness. 

When He says He makes a way for me, is this the way? 

Where the heart melts with the overload of love, His love!  Will I someday be allowed to be here forever? Never left out, never rejected, never second! Always the first choice as this choice guides me across the skies. Never along but joined with millions and millions of others as our dance designs brilliant colors yet to be created. 

Movement through the air stirs and throws new as a constant visual so vivid and beautiful, eyes of saints and angels watch this electrifying display of God art. Every emotion has its style that inhabits a place and releases vibrations which sings a new language ears must prepare to hear. 

Just as the struggle to see God and live, so is the Sound so intense. Sleep (rest, peace) is the silence used to break through. Surrender is the only move to make.

Breathing is like tasting something so delicious.

Draft Announcing A Hurricane

The needs of the heart, Poppa, 

are constantly moving about 

to find places to ring its sounds and actions. 

At times the mind wants to find a place to stall, or make void the thinking process; but I'm not sure if that is healthy. Sleep has been designed to give something supernatural; rest and entrance for a play field of thoughts.  I really hope to keep that clean as well. 

The whispers of trails to venture off the safe road can trip my stand, so I call out for brighter paths and guidance in the dark. To stay in the place You dwell. 

Your Presence, I love the song that constantly plays. Busy takes on a fascinating appearance. Sometimes it looks like the slow motion of the moon rising. Like I can see it move, but I can't. Then I blink and its made another climb. Soon, it has brightened the whole earth.  

My heart has jumped into the beauty of the seven wonders of this earth, and exceeds their fascination.

I'm like a draft 

announcing a hurricane. 

My praise rises to break open the Heaven's. And One so holy spills from the throne a gracious thought to ponder and chew, find delicious; which is what comes to those who taste the Lord and see He is good.  Now, the thoughts roll about like a hurricane strikes... uplifting all the loose debris of faithless struggles.  Carrying it away to be cast in the sea. 

Changing me to be new, not placing His wonders in old wine skins but in new.  Often causing everything within me to dance, starting with my face - turning sadness and fear into smiles and hope.  The face dances with new countenance and slowly moves to build throughout my whole being. 

And then the real play begins. The real that took me over into abundance rather than my lack. My song rather than my pity. My rejoice instead of complaints. I walk in the unknown of my Father's joy over me. 

Like a child unaware of eyes that can discern safety, I move only while staying close. I can hear His voice rising to come back, I move back.  

Living in the realm of visiting angels, for He is the God of angel armies!