I saw the sunset over the Pacific on Christmas Day, as I reached out for the heart of God in this, one of my “thin places.” In case you’re wondering, His arms caught me, held me, and did not let go.
So, this morning, once the marine layer had burned from the sky- thankfully early, as often happens in December- this thin-blooded Arizona girl, pulled on her running tights, two long sleeved running shirts, running jacket, running hat, and gloves, laced up her shoes, plugged one ear with an iPod earbud (because both ears would be dangerous), and dragged Jug out for a morning run along the coast. I trusted I would find Him waiting for me, visible in ways perceptible and comprehensible to me, and I was not disappointed.
Along Ocean Boulevard, the sky shone cloudlessly azure, and the sea winds pleasantly chilled my face and tingled my nose. Past the Hotel del Coronado, all along the shoreline I listened (with the free ear) as the surf rolled onto the beach. And my heart, I’m sure gleamed. Down we ran past couples, families, other runners, and other dogs, and with every foot strike I could hear His voice calling to me, “Do you feel me? Do you see me? Do you hear me? I AM RIGHT HERE.”
He wasn’t present solely in the surf and sky. I could see Him in everything and everyone I saw – truly omnipresent. I saw Him as I ran past the corner flower vendor who just happened to be over run with an abundance of yellow blooms – my absolute favorite color of cut flower (There’s just something decidedly, unwaveringly happy about a yellow flower.). I saw him in the proud snap of the American flags over the peaked roofs of the Hotel del Coronado. I saw Him as I ran toward a young couple seated on a bench by the ocean. I saw Him as the young man gently touched the girl’s face then smiled adoringly into her eyes before kissing her tenderly, soft as a whisper. I saw Him in a Navy officer perhaps a little older than I with his three teen children trying to convince a new Christmas puppy to rinse the sand from his huge paws; the puppy was having none of it.
And I heard Him. For the first time in days, He spoke. I heard him as my iPod – set on random -selected Pat Green’s “Poetry” (one of my all-time favorite songs); I hadn’t heard it in, oh, maybe 8 months, and as the chorus played, I laughed in delight because all I could think was that the man sang the raw truth and that Abba knew I needed to be reminded of that truth. I offered a prayer of thanksgiving that He would meet me exactly where I was, exactly how I was, exactly how I needed.
I can’t explain a blessed thing
Not a falling star, or a feathered wing
Or how a man in chains has the strength
sing.
Just one thing is clear to me
There’s always more than what appears to be
And when the light’s just right
I swear I see poetry
At my “thin space” I touched Him, and I remembered who I am at my very core. I am His. Let the winds and rain come. Let the roads become rocky and obscure. Let the dragons and monsters come out of the closets and from under the beds. I am His, and He will set the light at my feet, reach for my hand, guide me forward, tell me I am loved, that I am whole, that I may bend and break, even shatter, but His hands will always piece me back together. Nothing else matters.
The Unexpected Life 