Lights dim and candles lit, she bowed in the circle of prayer to prepare our hearts for worship, thanking God it was her special day, too. The day of becoming a mom. She blessed the evening and spoke of His goodness, and as the melodies painted a portrait of praise, I remembered another prayer she spoke almost three years ago.
The air was thick, the darkness more prominent that any other midnight. I sat surrounded by stacks of papers and books and legos on the floor. My office a semblance of what my heart had become. A mess.
Quietly I dialed only to hang up before the phone rang. I didn’t want to wake her at this hour, but the burden was too much to hold inside this fragile body of mine. So I dialed again. She would understand. Moms always do.
When she answered, I just cried from the pain and the ache. I had so many dreams for my life and I went for them all. Now. Now this? How did I get here? Slowly I whispered words so my girls wouldn't wake in the next room. Words of mixed up priorities, putting first things last, and regrets as deep as the sea tumbled out.
This brokenness. How will I ever put it back together again?
Melissa, Its okay!
Her voice cast a ray of light so bright I almost had to cover my eyes. Her voice uplifting and strong, yet gentle and understanding. Speaking like Moms do to soothe away the pain when wounds run deep.
I can’t wait to see what God is going to do!
Words spoken to me became the constant silent prayer of her heart. The anticipation in her voice was unmistakable, but how? In the face of my own sin and sorrow, how will He erase this sharp pain taking residency in my chest? And what to do with the pieces that lay scattered around me?
I remember that prayer like it was yesterday...
She continued on, praising Him for His faithfulness, His grace and raised her head high, knowing the fragrant aroma carried beyond the highest star and furthest galaxy.
Piano keys created a symphony and the sweet chorus of worship filled the air. The beautiful melody of angels gathered among angels unseen to celebrate my day. They came to celebrate the day I was born, but left celebrating newness birthed in a heart restored.
This was indeed her special day, too.
Three years ago she couldn’t wait to see and now she was here.
Tonight she sat front row, seeing what only God could orchestrate. Seeing the words of a hopeful prayer come to life. Seeing a room full of fellow travelers, some of who had gone the distance and said the hard words, others who had joined the last leg of the race. Seeing me sing a new song with clean hands and a renewed heart.
One thing was for sure, we were there to worship the living God for extravagant grace given with each thorn dug deep, each hammer pounded to the nail, and each drop of blood that redeemed us.
On the third day, He resurrected. Here almost three years later, He is still resurrecting my heart, emptying tombs of guilt, sadness and pain. He is risen indeed.
I glanced across the room of women in this house of love and my heart overflowed with unspeakable joy. Yes, this was the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Traveling on the road toward ressurection, this week I'm sharing stories that demonstrate the power of the cross.
