Rejoice and be glad, the Lord is near!  And then check on your neighbors, stuff their mailboxes full of flowers, give your mailman/lady lunch money enough to bless their work and prolong the businesses with take-out only signs, sing songs with your little ones before naptime, have tea parties every day, pray over your spouse in bed at night, video chat with family you've missed, write all sorts of letters to people you don't even know, and look up at the stars thanking God for His constant care over your life.   

An empty house for the weekend; Andy and I had plans of painting some of the grimy lived in walls and floors of our home while the children spent the weekend with Mema and Papa.  But the wind is strong and often dictates my hopeful date nights with Andy.  But life goes on...
Three hours into my now solo painting project, worship music ringing through my uninterrupted mind, I remember I had prayed for this.  For some alone time to think and breath and just listen to the still small voice of God.  Clarity fills my eyes and heart as I look around me and see this quieted home is full of God’s goodness.

Though the finger prints and permanent stains will be covered over, the presence of the Lord is thick and deeply etched into every corner.  This surprise alone time was fully planned by God and given to me as a gift to enjoy, to work, to worship and to pray.  
Though there is fear pressing down on so many hearts right now, meet that fear with praise.  If the Coronavirus finds its way into your life, let it find you singing and cleaning, playing cards and reading aloud to your family.  Don’t let panic steal your peace, don’t let perilous times find you hidden in a corner clutching items you bought at the store.  Meet fear with prayer and breath peace into the people in your home.  
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“The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord is enthroned as King forever.  The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord blesses his people with peace.” Psalm 29:10-11

We wait together sharing the name and age of the child affected by someone from years gone by.  I try and deflect the hardened words of her relationship failed and those who failed her with a nod and a simple response, “I understand, it can be hard.”  I remind myself, light shines it doesn’t throw punches, be the light.  

After a few minutes of sharing we communicate enough to make a connection that surprises even my “prepared” heart.  Our stories collide so closely my jaw hangs open and I realize we’re both there for more than just the same reason.  We’re there because of the very same person.  Our common tie lies deep within our foolish youth.  I listen to her story and hear my own in it.  I understand, though feel untouched by so much of what seems to pain and embitter her.  
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Psalm 91
“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”
A Jesus healing always changes your story.
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Earlier that morning I sat in my chair with bible limply opened over my legs praying I’d have the words to bring life to whomever God placed in my path.  I sensed deeply there would be a work done, though I didn’t expect it to be as personal as this meeting.  
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Our time expires when an armed guard walks steadily down the green carpeted hallway, “Baxter vs. _______”.  
I rise and slip one hand into Andy’s grip and give it a squeeze, he knows how nervous I am and winks an ease only he can into my heart.  Almost forgetting, I lean my head back into the waiting room, “it was nice to meet you”, I whisper.  She sends luck to me as we follow the officer through two locked doors into the courtroom.  

God sends flames into the darkness, but I’ll admit I didn’t fully want to be the flame that day.  It seemed to me a step backward into the shadows, a step I would have gladly run from like Jonah, only to be swallowed up by the jaws of a giant.  My life has rocked a rhythm into me that’s hard to step out of.  My home and surroundings have stamped their brand deeply into my skin and I make every effort to keep within these healing walls and corners called home. 

The one with the red tin roof enclosed by fields of goldenrod in the summer and boundless hills of snow in winter, the corner yard with the crisscrossed triangular cedar posts acting as backdrop for my rose bush and sunflower garden, the place I stand and speak up toward the heavens in faith.  The pines that each spring hold dangerously low robin nests built by the inexperience of first time Mama birds, the apple trees and the sapsuckers that battle against them every year, the babbling brook where children squeal and return to me wet and laughing, the handmade table of my desire where meals and school are spread daily, the peace and comfort I feel without much effort, the gentle stories read aloud by candlelight, the tea brewed, prayers spoken, hands held tightly and small frames rocked into the afternoon sun. 
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My life; so filled with the grace and order only God can give, it’s no wonder my heart would pull away from the broken parts of this world, it’s no surprise I’d want to stay right within the boundaries of my peace, my home, my comfortable space of existence.  And when you’ve tasted the darkened hard spots of this world you recognize the light and cling tightly to it never wanting to return to those dull gray days of uncertainty.​

“Take a seat on the left,” I’m told. 
There’s talk between Lawyer and Magistrate as I open my file of required documents readying myself to speak when asked.  
“Do you have any questions Mrs. Baxter?”

“No questions, I’m here to forgive what’s owed to me and close my case.”

There’s a look of compassion from the Judge that I love.  We talk back and forth effortlessly only a few minutes before she dismisses me and we’re escorted back to the entrance.  

I've only had to attend a few of these meetings and each time I imagine myself in the hot seat, owing what I cannot pay back because of my cracked and broken ways.  Then I see Jesus stepping into my brokenness without hesitation running toward the ruins, pulling off the rubble, reaching down to scoop me up and breath the forgiving air of the Holy Spirit into my sin scarred lungs.  Leaving me able to breath deeply, freely forever.  

Finding a way to skip this meeting crossed my mind, but to refuse the opportunity to hold high the torch He lit in my heart, to miss out on a God sized encounter and withhold the lifting of a weight within my power to remove, would be my own loss.  

“Never get wrapped up in the dark parts of your story because that’s not the end.” -Big Daddy Weave