Listening for the Miraculous


There are days when all has finally quieted, that the silence creates the space to finally be still.  That stillness can feel anything but silent.  This night is one of them nights.  Like a tsunami, the rush of unattended matters of the heart, come rushing forth.  Questions...prayers, dreams, unknowns still hanging from jagged edges of circumstances, seemingly so uncontrollable.  Then, the words, "Be still and know - that I am -God." slowly rise like yeast, permeating the whole of my soul.  The stillness, becomes a bit more silent.  The sifting through emotions, like flour being sifted for a purpose, seems not as important as...listening.


Listening, when not understood for it's intended purpose, can swell into feelings of wasted time.  Nothing accomplished.  However, when done often enough, even the smallest moment of time spent listening, can garner jewels of wisdom that carry them days, when it seems there is not a moment of silence to be heard, stillness to be seen.

In a recent conversation, listening, has been a gift of miraculous magnitude.  Perspective; one of my best companions, keeps me searching for the healing I long for.  It was a conversation of what God didn't do.  Could have done, and didn't.  It was a conversation revealing a time in which had reconciliation happened then, the relationship could not have gone back to where it came from, but at the same time, would have failed more, going forward.  It was a miraculous choice on God's part, to withhold reconciliation.  It would be 28 years later, this would even be known, by way of His miraculous reconciliation.  


While we open windows every day, it is not every day, we see in them windows; the divine.  The supernatural - happening naturally.  Risk is always present, in the opening of windows; because we never know what might blow in.  Winds rising up from the west, blowing easterly into the moment of our days...can wreak havoc, to our seemingly nicely dusted lives...until we see the dust is only growing thicker.  We forget how much of the past, unresolved, has settled on the table of our soul, like dust floating in the air unseen until the rays of sun reveal what is really there in the air.  We go along breathing as if nothing is wrong, yet all the while inhaling particle after particle, collecting in our souls.  Then...it happens.  The unexpected, unannounced, uninvited moments we conveniently turned away from...rush in.  


Listening... listening...  listening...


In a moment like this, we can listen or we can begin uttering all the reasons why, or how, or what and when, keeps us, and shuts us out of letting such windows open.  But how many of them slammed windows, were we slamming the supernatural from naturally happening?  How many, "But God"; moments- did we detour for a season, if that?  


I'm learning that in the chaos, as the pace of life gets ahead of my heart quicker than I can resolve; that listening is prayer.  And prayer is a way for the God of the universe to intimately know me...and I Him.  I am learning that He speaks a word to my parched soul, before I ever speak it...and it be my prayer unspoken,  that is now answered.  I'm learning that listening, gives me perspective that may not change my circumstances, but change my character.  I'm learning that listening...can bring healing.  I'm learning that listening; is learning.  Learning is growing.  Growing means there is life inside.  Though, when it feels like life, is not inside me; I listen...and I find that yes, it is good to be still.  It is good to listen...and in that place...




"Be still and know - that He is - God.






Dawn Shape
Embrace The Dance publishing
copy write 2011

So often we look at moments of pain in a story...
and therefore see that pain- as the story. 

In doing so, we miss the story alltogether. 

We fail to see beyond...and see after. 

The real story, lies not within the tragedy...
but rather in the glorious redemptions;
transformations;
that despite them...
 could not be held back.

Cry, Cry, Cry

Cry, Cry, Cry....

I was given a devotional to read, on prayer. I was struck

by the fact that were called to not give God

any rest in our crying out to him. In Luke, 18: 1-8, it

talks about a woman who was relentless in her begging to have

justice, a stranger she was, begging to a judge.
Her persistence grants her cry fulfilled.
Jesus goes on then and says, "will not God bring about

justice for His children who cry to Him day and night, and will
He delay long over them?"
It then states also in Isaiah 62, "to not give God

any rest, give Him no peace in our crying out to Him, until He does what
He said he would do in Jerusalem".

I have so long, struggled with my ability to pray many times

because of the crying, I've done before Him. But, in the reading

of these verses, and others, reflecting on the idea that

"the squeaky wheel gets the grease" as they say.....I am still just humbled at the

idea that God calls us to not give Him rest in our pleading

before Him. That there is a fruit to be seen, in faithful persistence.
Think about it.....how much do we like to hear persistence of

someones request, over and over and over....

doesn't it sometimes wear us all out?

And so it is in this grand wonder of His call to us,
to lament in cry's up to Him, that
I write this lamenting as though it was

His lament to us.....to Cry, Cry, Cry....

to Him.

Cry Oh little one, whom I love.

Cry Oh daughter and son, of whom
I have not forgotten.

Cry Oh you, who feel weak,

and seem always to be among the evilsof this world ,
how exasperating they are....

Cry out with loud cry's.

And do not fear being a burden
to Me.....

I have my palm outstretched
beneath your face,

that each tear might be caught as

it falls.

For the scar in my hands hold
each one,
just for you.

Cry before Me, oh son, who've

become overwhelmed with
duty. Cry dear daughter's, you who

are feeling week in your

labors.

Cry my dear passionate ones, who find

all your flesh and being,

saturated with chains of

agony.....for I am in the business

of breaking the bondages

that have made stronghold's over you.

Cry daily, and unceasingly.....in long

felt sadness. Empty out

your sorrows.

I will not turn a deaf ear.

I will not sit as though,
I'm not listening.

For I hear everything.
I see all things.

I have not forgotten you,

you who cry.....continually of
a broken spirit.

Cry out to Me when you feel
I am far away. Hold back nothing

from Me.

Get it off your chest,
where your heart and soul
like one long breaking fence,

piece by piece,
try desperately to stay
strong, in the wind of such storms.

The beams of that cross,
of which I withstood such winds,
stands still today,
in the Power of my Spirit,
which is within you.

Let my Spirit, be your
strong fence, that keeps

all that shall not come in, kept
far....

from you.

Do not stop telling Me,
how you feel.

Be relentless before Me,

with your broken dreams, and the sadness
this brings.

Every morning as the sun shines again,
My heart remembers your
cry's.

Every night that the stars light

up the earth sky,

My Spirit, walks among you,

for you who are crying...

My son,

sits before Me in steadfast

petition, on your

behalf, bringing Me your
every cry.

Though the darkness that you see,
shuts you down,
it does not shut Me down.

I do not slumber or sleep.

When I see your fear,

the blackness that fills

this world..... I

rise above it, and move through it.

I see above that which for you
I know, is so hard to see.

But, do not take the lie,

fed to you by the evil one that says,
I do not care. That I do not listen.

Rather, listen now, to My Spirit speak

with bold truth, that I am always with you.

I always hear.

I am always fighting in battle for your good.

Do not believe what you see so much as
believe that which you do not see.

For the world says,

"I'll believe it when I see it",

But my Kingdom says,
"You will see it when you believe".

believe, and entrust to me,
your unbelief. For I will take all things
that burden you.

I will take them, and use them. You will be,

My reflection.

Radiance will rest

upon your head as the sun.

Closer and closer will you become
one with Me......

that you might

see Me, in your suffering.

For there

is nothing that you go through,

that goes unnoticed by my Spirit.

I will usher in healing.
I will usher in comfort that will
begin your healing.

Your suffering will bring valiancy,
and your valiancy will usher in
more of My Kingdom's face.

Upon the days of your life,
will you be comforted by

the streams of my grace.

I keep and carry, and remember all
your cry's.......and continue even
today, to cry with you.

For I too have cried in my very own,

Gethsemane.

I am not without the
despairing face,
the forsaken place....
of evil.

So do not doubt, what you cannot see.

Rather, believe,
in that which you cannot

see, and you will find
Me there.

My joy will fall
upon you.

It will not be
of circumstance, but despite
circumstance. For when
you return to that which your heart
has always known of Me,
you will get up in the
strength of your youth.

From the mudpies of strife,
you will rise.

You will see Me again,
in this life.

You will see Me again,
in the glory of the life eternal

to come.

Glory to all

the days of my return,
as I will return -
for you.

EmbraceTheDance

Publishing

copywrite 2006

Another sacred place inside my Rivendell...

Thursday, October 26, 2006

Another sacred place inside my Rivendell....

Far within

the depths of the forest,

were the sounds of

violins.

  They played as though

the very angels of heaven

were among

the trees.

Soothingly,

the music would immediately

draw ones soul

into a spirit

of solitude.

Draping.................

over that solitude

was reflective movement.

A swaying ..........

in synchronization

........like the very

wind itself;

where a slow sifting

wind moved among leaves of the trees.

Beckoning ...to her soul,
was intense emotion.

She

slid

down the trunk

of a large tree, slowly sitting

herself into the cove

of the long,

thick strong surfacing

roots.

Her long flowing hair was

drapping down beside

her shoulder.

Just enough to mingle
a bit with the bark of
the tall trunk.

Looking up in reflection,
she remembered her sadness
when she was just a

little girl....

her eyes gracefully closed at the

tranquil violins floating
over the breeze.

Holding in deep thought,

she became aware

of the very delicate spiritual sounds
amidst her.

The silence.......

within her....................
lingered.

There was healing
surrounding it.

She held that healing,

closely.

Resonation stirred inside,

as she began to sense The Spirit
that lived within her.

Like a woven silk flower, the presence
of the Holy Spirit opens her
spirit

slowly to angelic

sounds moving among her.

Violins, oboes, and voices
of sweet nectar

webbing

a silken healing

gently, loosely, one silky strand at a time,

yet in such a way that she
was enveloped

completely.

This became her solitary place of refuge....

for at least

in that solitary place,

she felt untouchable

to such

further

tormenting.

Over time
she began to understand

more clearly,
the intriguing way

the silken web
would envelope
her.

Her voice stayed still...

where she used to be able to sing in

a way of deep healing.

These angelic voices, and strings on the violins,

were the very strands, one by one,

that sounded a

strength inside

her voice.

That which she

otherwise would have expressed,

herself, was being sung over

her, expressing that which was

unexpressable.

This is where the tears of

cleansing

begin.

Where they began,

to drip ever so slightly,

little by little......until

they flooded forth

with powerful release.

The voices, and strings

came even closer once the tears began to

flow.
It was as though a new song,
in both

harmony of sound, but in unison

of meaning and healing,

intertwined together in a

sacred dance.

A dance for the first time since

since she lived in the
forest.

She began to embrace.......

embrace the sounds
of healing voices
like in a hot tub
soaking in everything.

She comes often....

to this place, now.

Where in fact, no one has ever

really seen her go.

Where even when she

attempts to share,

she stops, knowing
too few, can understand.

And this song
heard in that moment
still makes her speechless.

When she cannot
be among the trees that

shelter her in this

forrest of life......

she finds it in
her soul......again,

where few

can go with her.

She's worn a place in the ground of

her heart........

where she's lingered for long, moments

at a time.

And it's with this ever risking of

getting alone

with the Holy Spirit... The Spirit

inside her,

the sacred

finds her...

weeping a healing

that is replaced slowly,

with a dripping joy.

EmbraceTheDance

 Publishing

copywrite 2006

Remaining Small

 

To be called....

I adore as you all know, movies of eternal rhythms in metaphor. I love the way
Aslan, gave them names in the end, to Lucy, Susan, Peter, and Edmond.

I was reminded of how, I can't wait to get to stand before my

"King Aslan", and be given my new name, after

this battle we war through, until then.

Though it doesn't say we'll have more than one name,

I hope that I live my life, with valiancy.....

and that when I am no longer here,

others would have seen me as one

with Valor....

Valiant

Help me Father, to know, that

even the smallest,
can find valor.

Valiant

Help me Father, to remember, without

you, I can do nothing,

but with you all things,

are possible.

Valiant

Help me Father, to listen for Your

voice. The voice of Your

mighty Spirit, speaking most

often, midst the movement

of war....and in the quiet of

stillness, the calm before

the storm.

Valiant

I may not be Lucy, the valiant
but Father, help me keep before

who's I am, that I am Yours...

and that you go with me
always,

everywhere.

Valiant

Help me Father, to weather the


winter,
when the frozen ways of

decision and indecision,

seem to linger, that

You and Your grace, go with us....

in all.

Valiant

Help me Father, to stay small

in the eyes of others,

and mostly in the eyes

of myself.....

that I may be great

in Your eyes,

alone.

Valiant

Help me Father, to press on with

steadfastness. To dance in the

lane of perseverance, and not

stay fallen.....
when I fall.
But that I might find Your

Valor.....

in all,
even though,

 

I remain small.