this wall of desert heat pushes at glass doors and i am often so-on-the-surface content in the cool of inside that i forget there is a past it. even the blue beckoning of swim is weakened by the need to smear on armor, set up red umbrella camps and step into alert to littlest ones.
sometimes i pull curtains across and choose the letting in only cracks of sunlight. i point at same games and reread books as if they are of greater worth. there are no further steps to take if i cannot see farther. i am doing enough if there is no sight of more.
but outside? it is where god takes hold of us. where he lets his glory peek through our words and hands and feet. where he pours out his love and reaching for all from our jars of clay. where truth spears and life blooms to whole from the wound of it.
outside is where we blinking at the bright see how to-ends-of-earth his light seeks to save. where he outdoes possible through our outstretched arms and upturned faces.
outside is moving from step-sitting to treading deep. it is there we become buoy.
markers for grace.
respite for the swimming too.
reminders of joy in this journey.
later i am deep in the heart of turquoise wet and the noisy welcome of outside. scent of sunscreened arms wrapped tight around remind me of the worth of arriving here.
eyes closed in thankful and suddenly the heat is glory beating down softly.
then i heard the voice of the lord, saying, “whom shall i send, and who will go for us?” then i said, “here am i. send me!”
isaiah 6.8 (NASB)