Over the Rainbow

There are moments when it takes but a glance to get caught up in the Spirit.  Today I struggle just to breathe Him in.  I am wrestling with myself, trying to stay afloat while being pulled deep into  murky waters--those consuming thoughts that keep me from hoping, trusting, moving ahead.

Another friend lost a son this weekend.  He was in his early 20's, just learning how to be a man.  She, a single-mom, went to bed thinking he was okay, never dreamed she would be making funeral arrangements instead of breakfast in the morning.  I cry tears for the anguish in a mother's heart, for the light that faded before it had a chance to shine.

Love is relentless, and won't let me languish in shadow for long.  He comes as close as breath, and whispers for me to move in, closer still, to lay me down and yield.  He knows I am aching inside, needing a quiet place to release my tears.

My daughter comes from the kitchen with a plate covered in white linen, food to nourish the body.  I am hungry, not for the temporary, but for the Broken Bread that feeds my soul.  I smile my thanks.  Watery eyes catch hers and linger, not wanting to let go.

She looks at me, questioning, sees I am troubled.  A thought lands  in the shallow end of melancholy:  She is the same age as a son who won't come home tonight.   I release a silent prayer of thanks for this thoughtful woman-child and her younger sisters, how we are all together today.  I tell her I love her.  The whoosh of the Spirit sounds as He swoops low again, reaching out a hand.

He is waiting for me to lose control, to give it all and get it over with.  I fear the fall, the breaking open of my soul in gut-wrenching sobs.  So I tighten the resolve, then whisper His name, the one I use when I don't know how to pray: Yannah--God Answers.

I am alone again, craving distraction, Googling inspirational songs.  I read how another mother's child was taken away far too soon, leaving behind a legacy of recordings.  As I listen to, Over the Rainbow, the narrow dam-crack breaks open wide; I press my forehead against the marred wood of the desktop and weep.

 

This time when He comes, I let go and grab hold.  He lifts me up high--to where troubles melt like Lemon-drops--and holds me in His arms, washes me clean.  All the sadness.  All the shame.  All the accusation and blame, and every unclean thing disappears in Him.

I think about her as I look into the eyes of my Redeemer, and see compassion, tears.  Like the Lemon-drops, I melt into Him.  He doesn't speak, but I hear his heart whispering:

I created you--My Poema--the work of my hands.  I spoke you into existence,  formed you in my image, trained you for war.  You were made by love and for love.  No words, thoughts or emotions can capture perfectly the essence of love.  But you can know it and live it--by the heart.

You grieve and intercede for this Broken One, this friend you love.  So you should.  But there are things you don't know.   My Spirit knows what it is you need to pray.  So listen and lean into Me.  I promise you, it will be okay.

I will take this tragedy, and make something beautiful.  Today, I hold both mother and son, just like I hold you.  You will overcome.  And so will your daughters.  And so will our Friend.  All because I overcame for you.

I pray.  Lord, let me learn to love like you love...

...deeper than an ocean's trench,

high above a rainbow sky,

wetter than a rainstorm's drench,

as free as bluebirds fly,

longer than forever's path,

devoted like the dove's single eye,
happier than a bubble bath,
as sweet as baby's sigh,
softer than a mother's touch,
soothing like her lullabye,

always enough--for her little boy's lunch,

...and never having to say good-bye.

You can listen to Eva Cassidy by changing my play-list at the bottom of the page.

Photo Credit: Enhanced Rainbow by Ruth Ver Sluis