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Sunday ReFrame Rescue

 

Today was an odd Sunday. For one thing, I had no one to go to church with me. I decided to be a “heathen” of sorts, maybe even a pagan, if you will, and worship at home—on the John Deere yellow swing with my camera and my sketch book, drawing pencils, and ink. My worship was more meditation than worship. I listened to the sounds around me; the bird choir sang the hymns. I felt the respiration of God in the light breeze that blew around me—not enough to rustle the pages in the sketch book, but enough to let me know that He was there. Yes, it was an odd Sunday in that my pew was bright yellow instead of mellow brown, that the hymns were wordless, that the Gospel was the Breath of Life around me.

After yesterday’s blues, today was a day of reframing and rescue, a day to remember that God’s breath is all around me, breathing with me and through me, and that no matter what my emotions may tell me, He never leaves me lonely or isolated. He is present always.

Sometimes, I need an odd Sunday to remind me.