It's been good to get time to write this week and here I am on Friday and on time with Gypsy Mama's Five Minute Fridays. Go, write, be cleansed, and don't look back.
When I think of distance, I usually think of being far from home. First in Ireland, being far from the Midwest and the Kansas tornado season and the smells of warm and humid springs; and now here, back in the Midwest (Missouri, this time), being far from the daily rainbows and the new home we built and reveled in for 25 short months. I count the distance in monthly support and expectations, even though I try to deny it and think that the distance is merely only miles, not in dollars and cents. My heart knows the distance between me and home is really only measured in patience and fruits of the spirit, both of which I wish to plant and grow in.
But I also remember a time, more than a decade ago now, where the distance between me and the Creator seemed too wide, too vast to even recognize His hand or what His peace looked like. There was a crash in the internal systems of my mind and I felt like David cowering in the cave. There was no way to build a bridge over this infernal distance, apart from the waiting and the meds and the daily desire for Spring to once again arrive in my soul. Spring came at last, months later, and the distance disappeared in a matter of seconds.
I wonder now if the One who created my mind and all the brain chemicals of every one who ever lived allowed that distance to show me that no distance is too great for Him. He’ll still be found on the other side.