At church there were moments that the sun peeked through the stained glass window, beautiful on a gray weekend. Last weekend we were at eighty and beside Lake Michigan, this weekend the temperature was forty. The weather moves like that here. The sun shone so brightly through the top amber panes, I almost needed to shield my eyes.
In a pew Bible I found a slip of paper. Psalm 23 was written in neatly in childlike form.
Sometimes, I don’t feel as though I deserve those words either.
Like when I hesitated to turn left on a blinking yellow and the SUV behind me laid on the horn. In horror, I watched my right middle finger fly off my hand squarely to the rearview mirror. And afterwards… I realize yes, I really did that with my kids in the backseat.
Or the tantrum on Sunday afternoon about the burnt rice that resulted in an apology to all three of the other people in my family.
Only I do deserve Him.
So does Thermyna.
God’s brilliance is like the sun shining through that amber glass. It burns warm, simply because he loves us. He knows we are never going to be so bright on our own.
I am in the hallway at my job. A friend stops even though she is pushing a baby stroller, and she puts her hand on my shoulder. ‘I’m praying for you today.’ I want to say, oh, everything is fine. In reality, that day it is not. She knew somehow. Her voice was the warm love I needed for the hours.
We all need that burning warm. Love. Forgiveness. We are messy, messy people.
This week I will think of the amber colored stained glass,
burning warm in sunlight,
and also I will pray to remember to be that burning warm to others.
like Thermyna, a child… longing for the comfort of Psalm 23.
There a million and a hundred thousand trillion of her in this world, in need for the hours.
When have you felt that burning warm of God’s love? Who can you offer hope for the hours?