Rainbows

Our glorious Father cannot be categorized, described or explained.  Psalm 19:1 says "The heavens declare the glory of God."  I cannot begin to understand "the heavens."  Outer space is beyond my mental reach.  How can there be an ever expanding universe and that be only one of millions?  How can I then understand God?  He is too big for me to know.

Yet He has put a picture of Himself in the Bible. In it He shows His love and sacrificial nature. He shows His power and might. Then there are things in His self portrait that I would not expect to find there. Things that speak volumes about Him because with all the sorrow and joy in life, all the hard work of redeeming mankind Our Great Father put seemingly insignificant things about Himself in the Bible. Here is one...He looks at rainbows.

"And the bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it." (Genesis 9:16)  

Rainbows are fleeting, fanciful things. You cannot touch them. They yield no rain. Flowers do not grow in their sight.  Nothing changes because there is a rainbow; they serve no purpose.  But God looks at them. With all He does to sustain us, He looks at rainbows.  

The funny thing is that I look at them too.  When the storm ends I run to find the rainbow. When I see it, I know He and I are looking at the same thing.  Those are special moments. God and I connected; staring at the same whimsical picture in the sky. I cannot understand  most things about my Father, but I know He loves the beauty of the rainbow and we have that in common.

Scars

The dark, slightly raised stripes are still on my right elbow and I remember exactly how I got them.  I was about eight years old.  The bicycle was purple.  The hill was steep and the sandy walkway curved left at the bottom.  I knew it was a perilous journey and took all the necessary precautions.
     1. No one walking on the path, check.
     2. No stray dogs who could chase me in sight, check.
     3. No other cyclists coming in the opposite direction, check.
I took off, not too fast of course, restrained by my natural fear of injury. But the hill was steep and momentum abducted me.  At the bottom of the hill the back tire slid out - my foot hit the pedal brake - the bicycle skid, stopped and hurled me into space.

My elbow hit first.  The thin layer of skin between the cement and my bones split.  Tears, consolation, nurses, beta-dine, bandages and more tears healed my wound.  But the scar remains.  The US National Library of Medicine says, "Scars usually fade over time but never go away completely."

What about His scars? The ones He got for me.  Have they faded?  "...I will not forget thee," He says, "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands." (Isaiah 49:15, 16)  His love for me is linked to His scars.  In the Earth made new "every trace of the curse is swept away...One reminder alone remains; Our Redeemer will ever bear the marks of His crucifixion.  Upon His wounded head, upon His side, His hands and feet, are the only traces of the cruel work that sin has wrought...the tokens of His humiliation are His highest honor; through the eternal ages the wounds of Calvary will show forth His praise and declare His power." (White; Great Controversy, p674) (italics supplied)

There are no words that can express the awe I feel when I think that His beautiful face is marred eternally for my sake.  There could be no greater love than what He has shown me.  "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him, and with His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53: 5)

Spectacles

My Great Father tints each fiber of my life with colors so full and vibrant they are staggering.  Each thread is carefully dyed. The hues range farther than the rainbow.   He runs the strands through His fingers and measures their weight.  He twists individual strings around each other for durability and strength.  He weaves these fibers into complicated patterns using every color in His palate. Sometimes he knits dramatic landscapes of monochrome pigments, breath taking!  He does all this because His great heart breaks to show me how much He loves me… and I am color blind.

I see black, white and shades of gray.  I miss the subtle blending, the bold contrasts and the expressions of His love.  My perceptions blur His designs and misinterpret His intents.

But He gave me
glasses.  With them the lines are
clearer and the shapes hold true.  I have to believe my life is colorful, believe He has painted it with His love and “for now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Cor 13:12

Eastern "Delight" Time

Our oldest son went to college one time zone away from home. The 1800 miles between us did not make him feel far away, but the time difference did. Central Standard Time. I imagined his day, “Its 8am here, so he must be getting up there. After a few years he began life in earnest. He married and had a child. My time keeping continued. I wonder what the baby is doing now? Its 9pm here, so she must be going to bed for the night there.

How I missed them each and every day. Their family grew and so did the yearning in my heart. Opportunity came knocking at his door and he answered. It was a job in California. Pacific Standard Time. Too early to call, I'll wait... My bed time, but their busy time, I'll call tomorrow.

Yesterday, they moved into Eastern Daylight Time. I sigh and rejoice! The sun comes up on him and me in the same instant. In a few weeks I can look out my door and see the harvest moon when they do. They are near by geography and time.

Our weather radio has a computer generated voice. When Computer Harry says the time he mispronounces Eastern Daylight Time. His monotone says, Eastern Delight Time. I now live in Eastern Delight Time with all my children and grandchildren.

“Fear not, for I am with thee: I will bring thy seed from the east, and gather thee from the west: I will say to the north, Give up; and to the south keep not back: bring my sons from far, and my daughters from the ends of the earth.” (Isaiah 43: 5, 6)

Renovation

429 Goss Lane, August 1982. We walked through the house one last time, the boys and I. (I remembered moving in, walking the five blocks with most of our things in hand, believing here in this quiet place things would be better. But it wasn't. Everything ended...) We checked the rooms, the closets; nothing was left behind. I shut the door. Closed it to a marriage, hopes, dreams and failures. What could God do with the pieces?

429 Goss Lane, July 1996. We walked through the house one last time before signing the papers. Was it possible we were buying this broken old house? Dormant and damaged the walls grew mold, the creaking floors sagged and I looked at blue sky through a bedroom ceiling. It certainly was a symbol of pain and shattered dreams. What would God do with the pieces?

He did what He does best, renovated. Renovated walls, timbers, windows and lives. He gave “beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness...that He might be glorified.” (Isa 61:3) I left a desolate woman, with two small boys, and returned full with my husband, our two teenaged sons, and the little ones born to us. The latter end has indeed been better.

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"So the Lord blessed the latter end of Job more than his beginning." Job 42:12