A few are still chewing down the last of supper’s garden wraps when I open the Bible, read a few verses from the Gospel of John, ask them to bow in prayer. Farmer Husband’s working with brothers on crippled combines and so I alone close the meal with Scripture reading.
I bend my head in prayer and weariness and pour out my dirty heart like water.
“Lord, you know how done I am, and how much I have botched things today and all the sins I have spewed and how little I have walked in Your Spirit.” I sigh, resting heavy head in hands.
“Please God, somehow don’t let all these kids get confused about who You are by how I’ve sinned and muddled today with frustration that was of the flesh. I’ve fallen today and hurt hearts. Somehow, God, even in the midst of my mess, let them see You here in this place.” This place in my chest hurts, burns up my throat.
“I repent, Lord. Oh, God, somehow be here. Amen.”
It’s a stripped-bare prayer, naked talk from a scratched heart. Have I ever prayed so transparent in front of these young ones?
And in the moment I open my eyes Little One spills her water and Older Sister yelps over icy wet lap and a Brother laughs too loudly and Older Sister glares, shakes head in disgust, and stomps to her room in blustery whirlwind and my tired shoulders droop and I mumble, “Okay, folks, let’s just wrap up a hard day and everyone can tuck in with a book.”
I gather my plate, cup. “Let’s just get the table cleared and dishwasher loaded, okay?”
A little boy whines and a Big Brother exhorts with a verse about doing everything as unto the Lord and Middle Brother mentions Big Brother’s own complaining earlier in the day and I just think about how tired they all are, and clearing the table, and praying, praying: “God, be in this place.”
“Hey, Look at that!” Levi’s face is pressed to the window pane. “Sun’s still shining and it’s raining!”
“It’s raining?” Older sister pokes head of bedroom door.
“Oh, WOW!!” Levi hollers.
Bodies cluster and press in and I come too, at the back, behind. Watery droplets suspend in darkened, draining sky, and sun, radiant sun, refracting through each liquid bead, bedecks sky in arching color, empty space saturated with vibrant promise.
Less than a handful of moments from my serrated prayer, He writes across the sky in multi-tinted script:“Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds in a rainy day, so was the radiance around him. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord” Eze.1:28
“God, be in this place.”
This bowed arch, the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. In this unlikely, stormy place.
And like Ezekiel, I too wanted to fall “face down” as I “heard the voice of one speaking” Eze. 1:28.
A son turns with wide smile, his own inverted bow. “And you just prayed that prayer, Mom. God heard you!” Son looks back at glowing heavens.
God's heard me, and (I can't stop smiling), I hear Him too, that voice of One speaking into cloudy, rainy-day places:
I am here. I am here.
Yes, even here.
Lord, that You stay in these places and never give up on us. Unfathomable grace, that the glory of the Lord fills the jagged, rough places.
