Thank You

Sometimes the moments come and go in grey torrents, rushing past so quickly that I could never hope to taste their true flavor or hear their distinct pitch in the greater symphony. Sometimes the moments sting and pierce deeply, one after the other. Sometimes they trickle by, warm, clear and golden, and by their soft light it's easy to see the story God has been writing all along.

It always strikes me as odd that the most beautiful moments drift into my life when I am the most numb, heavy, or weary. I supposed that's the way God likes to work. He says "break up your fallow ground, for it is the time to seek the Lord, that He may come and rain righteousness upon you." He waits to rain on me until I am sufficiently broken, sufficiently ready to receive it.

One of the hardest weeks of my college experience took place in February of this year. There was at least one performance every day that week, there was a test to prepare for, papers to write, tests to administer and grade in the class I taught, and a doctoral audition to top it off. I didn't know how to get through the week. It was all I could do to get up morning after morning and dive back into the chaos, pushing myself through the day until I fell back onto my pillow--only to get up a few hours later and start again.

A stiff cold snap had interrupted the creeping, tender green shoots, leaving them brown and withered around the university campus. I felt that I could almost relate to them one morning that week as I tugged my scarf up higher around my neck and made my way out of my apartment. A dusting of snow had cloaked the ground and I walked slowly and carefully to keep from slipping on the frozen pavement. A hint of yellow caught my eye along the drive, and I turned to see a row of full-blown daffodils standing cheerily along the curb, each with an icy, white bonnet. I had no choice but to smile. Somehow the sturdy courage of these little pioneers bled into my heart, and I saw the glory God was working through this difficult week--a strength tested and proven under the weight of hardship, like spring's yellow made sweeter as it takes on the harsh edge of winter.

There's always a reason to give thanks, if not for the relief from hardship then for the hardship itself. It's all an outpouring of His love and grace--every bit of it. He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, emptying them of the curse and leaving nothing but the blessing of the poor in spirit, which is the hope of His Kingdom, His very dwelling place, where every tear will be dried.