A butterfly landed on me last night and it stayed there awhile.
I try not to indulge superstition within myself, but I take note when odd things happen and trust their meaning will reveal itself in time— like little clues in this puzzle of life. I treasure them when they appear for I can not manufacture nor force them to arrive when I would like a sign.
They surface when I stop searching or rather when I believe God is not so seriously concerned with my spirituality as I am. They arrive, glowing with his fingerprints — a precious invitation to abandon all else and play.
The world seems so much lighter and I am so relieved.
I hold this fresh faith dearly along with all the gifts it brings for it is here now and with it leaves all worries to be carried in the wind.
It’s a dance. I remember now—the parallel instantly liberates my soul from binding expectations to embrace the nuance of union with God. It’s a dance dependent on his leading and my surrender.
All I want to be and think I am not is irrelevant. This is fun, freedom, complete safety in the strength of his stance.
The phrase echoes within me and I think, “The Divine Dance. That’s a book title I could write to.” One quick search reveals I am not alone in this revelation as Richard Rohr and some others beat me to it. Of course, there is reference to Christian Mysticism which finds me far more often then I look for it.
Still, I know the familiar glow of this thread and believe God to be on the other side of it.
Hope is such a bright and beautiful thing. I am not lost or forgotten along the way.
And that feels deeply healing to say.
What love.
Thanks for tuning in today.