The tragedy of living on this earth is that we often don’t see heaven unfolding around us. I am ashamed to admit it, but most days, I do not see the glory in the ordinary. I rise from bed, un-thinking about the miracle of my still-beating heart. I stumble down the stairs, upset that I’m awake, ignoring the breath that rushes in and out of my lungs. I get overwhelmed by the voices of the littles, shamefully glossing over the glory in their faces . . . perfect arms and legs and voices and smiles and chattering song.
The ordinary is brimming with the glorious, with glimpses of heaven in every ticking second, each blink of my eyes.
Everything is declaring the glory of God.
We seek heaven for a sign, looking through the vivid sunsets that shout of His decadence. And have we ever asked why? Why the sunsets, why the colors, why does it last for minutes? It is fleeting, spreading across the sky, like a whisper that says, “He is near.”
We stumble through the days, hurting, aching for comfort. But do we look beyond, outward just enough to see the snow falling? A blanket of peace, wrapping about the earth like a blanket . . . shushing . . .
covering . . . pausing . . . to say, “He is near.”
Once, in one of the worst moments of my life . . . I laid my head upon my kitchen table and wept. I promise you, God walked into my kitchen that day. And He wrapped arms around me and held me close and took my pain onto His own heart. A few days later a brilliant summer storm rolled in and lingered over our house, and in those greens and flashes and rumbles of giants, I saw it written in the clouds . . .”He is near.”
Another time, my husband woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to “trust him” and go outside. I stood in the yard, staring up at the heavenlies as faint lights danced across the sky . . and I could have sworn that those Northern Lights were placed right there for me . . . and I heard it . . . I heard it like a seal upon my heart . . .
“Katie, I love you.”
Today, I am trying, trying so hard to let the veil of ordinary to slip away so that I can see, with REAL- SEEING eyes . . . the glory of the kingdom of heaven right here. I hope you will look and listen with me.
Take a deep breath of His goodness.
Look beyond yourself to the skies and see His steadfastness.
Put a hand to your heart and feel His faithfulness.
Look into your child’s eyes and see His creativity.
Close your eyes and remember. Let the memory of what you have lost linger, if you can, and feel His love . . . as it rushes into the empty places . . .
There is no ordinary. Not anymore.