Bright canary yellow walls and white molding around me beautifully contrast with the original life-scraped oak floor-boards under my feet.
It's quiet with only some muffled chatter from the gals working behind the counter and the soft soothing sounds of a water feature in the corner.
Grapevine has been strung around every arch and door opening, and I wonder where it came from and who put it there; their vision and gifting for beauty strung up for my eye's delight?
Though several customers have come through for their morning coffee or bakery, only one other customer has settled at a table around the corner in what must have one day been a parlor in this old home; back when the road outside was a narrow county lane, and the nearbye train tracks carried trains by hourly rather than only periodically. My mind wanders to those who built this home, to work a farm and raise their children on Wisconsin soil.
As I glance out at that those iron rails again, I enjoy the way the sun plays through the wavy imperfections of old original glass panes, and I wonder how many pairs of eyes, and whose they were, that have gazed out this exact window at this particular scene....
I've come here to pull up and into spiritual white space with my Abba.
Intentionally setting aside time for lingering with Him.
I had to push through the fog of an early alarm following an interrupted sleep, push through the fog of a coffee-less morning in preparation for some routine blood work, push through the fog of Monday's ruthless beginnings with all of it's fullness and demand.
No strict agenda for study or method for study has been brought with me.
Simply His word and my journal; some titles He's been using to delight my soul of late
Here I've come, stepping into this old space where history oozes from every creaky floor board, that I might lean hard into the deeply glorious grace of His presence oozing from every step of my current path.
As always, I am perfectly and fully met, held, known and astounded in ways that will carry forward an unbroken companionship between my soul and His Spirit!
My mind bounces between this moment and the words of The Word that I read this morning,
early as the sun was just beginning it's rise behind a dark layer of clouds.
One of God's prophets brought questions; questions just like mine -
big questions, hard questions; from the gut of his very being queries and wanting to know.
His heart and mind were raw with disappointment and hard waiting, but he came reverent and bold with his need.
I am awed and met in the way God meets His prophet.
I know that He receives and answers me with the same faithful mercy.
He hears and receives our questions.
This alone floors me with reverence.
He does not answer with changed circumstances,
or a detailed review on the "why" and "when" of his plans.
Abba, bigger, better, higher than our minds can fathom, gives something far better.
He feeds hope and increases faith.
"Look among the nations, and see; wonder and be astounded.
For I am doing a work in your days
that you would not believe if told." Hab 1:5
He tells me this:
If we could see what He is doing, we would not believe it for it's perfection and glory.
It would be too big, too great for us to hold without bursting.
Oh to sit my soul there in that truth forever...
I've been returning over and over the past 36 hours to sit in this truth; this glorious promise;
this reality which trumps anything looming on my horizon or gurgling within my emotions.
God's answer to His prophet includes more.
"Write the vision. Make it plain on tablets
so he may run who reads it."
He knows me in my dustiness of this flesh,
in my bearing of His image.
He tenderly gives me glimpse through the fog and then movement within that glimpse.
He knows that I will need a returning and returning to His promise as I move in the race of this life.
He knows I will need His word for the road, a midst my fight.
I can visualize the prophet recording his vision from God in a portable and durable scroll that would fit easily in his travel pack...
I place God's words to me on my phone's lock screen, post them in my laundry room,
clip them to the visor of my mom-mobile.
I memorize them and review them in moments of prayer, in need or rejoicing!
"For still the vision awaits its appointed time;
it hastens to the end - it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come;
it will not delay." Hab2:3
An Abba's great and tender love that knows with a perfect knowledge the emotions of my path.
A merciful Savior who has Himself tasted the emotions of slow and long waiting.
His Spirit mercifully resounding into those places for my comfort and sustaining faith.
It will come.
His plans will unfold.
The glory will be seen and known.
The waiting will bring fruit.
It will be big and glorious and so worth it all.
Is this not the beauty of pulling up and into white space with Him?
This time invested here in this old farm-house cafe on a gray-gold Monday morning.
This coming boldly with the questions and longing of my soul.
This being sweetly received and fully known.
This being answered with delicately powerful glimpse of His glory unfolding through my murky fog.
This being answered with the movement of recording His communion with me;
taking it with me on the road of life; clinging tight at all times to my most precious treasure.
This unbroken companionship of His Spirit comforting, directing, sustaining, forgiving, holding, and steadfastly loving my soul.
What about you, dear Reader in this place?
Do you have a spiritual white space story of late?
Where and how can you pull up and into unhindered and lingering time before Abba, allowing His word and Spirit to meet with you in ways that you can record and take with you for the road.
May you find sweet time and place to push through the fog for the feeding of your soul on the rest of His answering promises.