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I have been buried in budgets at work and almost missed it. Today would have been my mom’s 88th birthday. Born two days and 25 years apart we often celebrated our birthdays together. After I got married and moved back to Milwaukee in 1999, we spent that time on Washington Island.

Judging by the length of my hair, this is us on the Island twelve or so years ago. Mom would spend her mornings on this porch reading the Bible and praying. I would interrupt her, but she always seemed happy to have me join her. I keep this photo on my desk because it takes me back to that beauty, to the peace, and to her. After she died, this is where I would sit, reading and praying and taking in the beauty as she once had…

The wind is blowing from the north this morning. I notice it first because the tall grass is bending to the south, and then I am aware of its caress against my skin. The sun’s heat presses down and enters. 

He waits for an invitation.

The grass stills. The bee flies away. He waits to enter. 

The deep green of the sea turns to midnight blue out where clouds peek from the horizon, barely noticeable. I would have missed them if my eyes hadn’t been drawn to the color of the water out where it’s deep.

Seagulls appear like tissues set loose in the breeze. They become slivers, barely perceptible as they fly into the sky’s light, then reappear. Gusts of movement scatter across the water’s surface. 

Who am I to enjoy summer’s beauty unfolding this morning? Who are You to wait so patiently, attentively, drawing me in with Your mystery? I am a mist and will soon disappear. My clothes will gather moths. Your garments are layered with star-filled galaxies, heaven upon heaven, You are eternal. 

Wake my soul to feel Your gaze in the shadows of the trees that shoot upward so nobly. Make me like a tree, strong and firm, grounded and rooted in nature’s strength, earth’s rich soil, dependent on the sun and rain for nourishment, and on the wind, to learn to withstand the storm when it comes. 

Enter in where night meets dawn. Fill to full this cracked vessel. Keep filling or I will be useless. Look in as I have looked out and in seeing Your glory, surrender into it, into Your refilling and refining grace. Look in and make me more like You. 

Originally posted June 2017. Revised in memory of Mom.


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