An early morning with an autumn chill in the air, perfected with the scent of brown sugar and maple burning from my countertop. A thousand thoughts running skitter-scatter, like a whirlwind of burnt orange and red leaves.
Beauty everywhere and I sigh. My fingers laced around a Starbucks coffee cup, I stare out the window and start to pray my jumbled thoughts. The trees are going bare, turning naked with the flash of a few weeks, autumn splendor fading into crooked, empty branches.
My Kids’ Club girls. A few tears slide down my cheeks, one ominous one tracing its way all the way down, dropping on the hand clutching my mug. Salty tears mingle with french vanilla goodness. I sit quietly, my tears and my coffee. My heart prays that the Spirit of God would turn my hardened heart of stone into a heart of flesh. I’m clinging to that promise in Ezekiel.
More tears seep out, like a rain cloud bursting from the stored abundance. It’s a storm of emotion, let loose. My Kids’ Club girls. I’m sitting here praying for the glory of God to emanate from my life, to seep from my life, like the tears dribbling down my cheeks…and the Hand of God stirs something deep inside, awakening my soul.
The glory of God is in those Kids’ Club girls too. He created them. Why have I been missing this? When I feel like yelling at Rachel, because she has tried and tested my patience far too long, why can’t I see past to her soul? Hurting, aching, desperately needy. Like my own.
I feel as though my heart’s been struck with lightning, as more tears mingle with french vanilla goodness. When did Kids’ Club become about the perfect lesson plan, and how I have gotten to the place where I rate a night of club to how perfectly things flowed? Does it really matter to Jesus how many points are taken?
Maybe I’ll never see the fruit of my labors, but can’t I just hold on to the Truth of the Word that says with all certainty, the voice of the Lord speaking with all authority, saying: My Word will not return void?
Jesus, can we have coffee again tomorrow?