Moments fly by in this house, in my life, slamming against walls and bouncing of floors to the click-clack of my shoes as I dash from task to task.
I blink awake, bleary eyes stumble to the tea kettle. A moment.
My Bible falls open where I left off the day before. Another.
And then to have two thousand years erased as I can hear Christ’s words for today pour into my thirsty soul. He changes it, coaxing out the life and the beauty in His creation like the hot water pulls color and scent from the dead sack in my cup.
Every moment snaps by – goats stubbornly pulling to escape, laundry snapping against a light breeze, thank you’s written, words poured, thoughts racing from task to task, meals for later, food for now, soul food in the books for the year.
This was a slow day, a full day, and yet it shot by like the sheen of a star in the night. Bright, blinding, unyielding, gone. Leaving only the sense of awe at what has been and what is to be.
Does the surety of wondrous change make the normal fleeting? My last days in this house, listening to the air vent wheeze over my bed, milking obstinate goats, hearing my sisters giggle themselves to sleep, longing for the covenant to be made.
It has been flashes for the last month.
A quiet joyous proposal, sharing that news and savoring that moment.
Then pictures to catch in flashes and clicks the awe in my smile and surety of his embrace.
A flash and then gone, but I cling to each moment, holding them like gifts in my heart.
I hold it like an ember glowing in my hand, lighting up my fingers and making me tremble. Oh the beauty!
These moments – communion with friends, hope in hard times, victory in a world of defeat.
And they are shared with one made for me. Oh the beauty.
They come just long enough to thank God for them. Then the next one here for the same purpose.