it comes through a held door and a sweet nod when you say thank you. through a genuine “hey, how are you”. through the shoulder touch from a friend that sees you and loves you anyway. from a muffled giggle of mornings spent on the couch. from a text of good luck for that midterm you really didn’t study for. through the rustle of leaves under our feet because, finally, the harvest is coming. from that wave from a sweet boy – that wave that holds so much more than just a “hi” because it is loaded with encouragement and love and all the rallying you could ever seek. it comes in heart & heart eye emojis sent and kisses on the cheek and “omg stop flirting” (though you secretly love how affectionate the girls in your suite are). it comes through a favor done or a coffee bought. through dishes put away and living rooms straightened up. it comes through being able to go home after months of being away, through the thrill of a break, through the absolute joy of being able to see Mom soon because it’s been three months.
it comes a lot of ways, and most days, I don’t see it.
I’d been pretty distant lately. I’ve kept a distance because I don’t know what to do with myself in seven months and it’s got me a little terrified. I’ve said hey and hi and how are ya while I move, like a dummy, through the day. I wake up on Monday and say that I can’t wait for the weekend so I can have a break.
but what a pleasure it is to know that I am seen. that the Lord does all these little things “it comes through” to show me that I am seen; that even at my lowest, grace has not lost me yet. that in my distance, He could not be nearer. how could He not love me so when I get to wake up and call my self, my day, my interactions, my breath, my patience, my friendships, my love, and my everything grace? “how sweet it is to be loved by you.” oh, it is so sweet to be loved by the Lord. it is so sweet to be known and adored and fought for and rallied for and considered worthy.
and today, I saw it. today I began numbering some gifts because maybe, just maybe, if I can remember them, I can know them. and if I can know them, I can love them. and maybe if I can love them, I can be here. because this day and that day and yesterday and tomorrow and six months ago and two weeks from now, all those days matter. let me not miss them.
there’s this quote by Ann Voskamp that says “sometimes the proof that God exists is that lightning doesn’t strike, but quiet grace rains straight down.” hm. imagine that grace. imagine that quiet grace pouring down. let me see the rain.
I’m so glad fall is here. I am so, so happy. so happy that the harvest is coming, that the leaves have changed, and that I, like those leaves, get a chance to start over. what a beautiful season filled with grace and new mercies and wind catching dresses as boots click on sidewalks. I’ll spend the season counting and counting because there is joy in those numbers. those are some numbers I’d like to save.
Ann also says this – “God’s mercies are new every morning – not as an obligation to you, but as an affirmation of you.” oh, how sweet. how joyous. how wonderful that the mercies would rise new on me to affirm that grace that fights for me. how great that His mercies are new, that His steadfast love endures forever (in the summer and the fall, in my times of closed eyes because I don’t want to care, in my ignorance, in my gracelessness, in my doubt), that He does not waver.
let healing come from each of my breaths. let grace sing from my soul like the birds. let restoration live here and let redemption reside here. teach me grace and teach me to count. I want to see you, God.