{enough}

Where solace sits inside, I am reminded He has pulse. Slow beating. Effortless thumping against my bones.  He lives.  Joining into my fibers. Twisting within my tendons, He harnesses my all systems go.  And yet, with an audacity of grandest form, I ask for more.  It's humanity. The blame rests squarely on the fallen. Like demigods of this mortal world, we run to Him for fortune and goodwill.  Vanity. Victory. Valor.  Name call and you'll find pride and success all accounted for. Life thankful is stepped trampled over for the next request.  Marred & mashed, the hurry of favor gains momentum on spirit.  More, please.  I need answers, God.  My requests.  Mine.  I am making them known.

Impatience and impromptu cries for immediate action breed hustle and strife.  Selfish pleads dilute glory.  His needs are simple and yet, I so easily lose sight of service.  Of love.  Of relationship and obedience too.  Doubt, disbelief and distance from Him revel in my dissolutions.  There, infectious-like they swell & suffocate His place.  My physical self feels strangled.  My soul grasping for air.

He needs not my answers.  

He needs me.

 

Just me.  Uncoiled from my fears.  Separated from my story of glory. He needs my person. Empty and fully aware of His passion for filling. Shouting out joy for the thanksgiving of my bones. Of my breaths.  Of my movement made possible all because He lives. Slow beating, He secures my existence.  And my existence is enough.

Life thankful. Empty. Enough.  Beauty finds me when my rhythm is His.  Joy follows.  The jargon and jealous of this world find no favor in a life thankful. Enough slapping up with hands shake-fisted and arms flailing with my hasty & hurry-up. Enough superimposing the scars of my life over the His that brought me the very breaths I inhale. Enough time spent in petition and more time spent in the thanksgiving.

For solace sits inside.  And my pulse can find cadence there. Effortless thumping against my bones.  He lives.  And that is enough.

.mac