Waiting for ClothesPosted: February 19, 2011
I drive oldest to school and wonder at the line of trees, stark naked, twigs bare, arms lifted to heaven.
I wonder if they feel it too, the ache for clothing.
There is a beauty to the unsheathed truth… the stripped foliage… the removal of leaves and berries and that which we measure output ~worth?~ by.
I’m like those trees, waiting for God to re-birth and re-bud and re-make and re-clothe.
And like those trees, I will not hide my starkness. I’ll not pretend to be something I’m not. I will not rush to be Spring when I am Winter yet. And I will stand tall, branches outstretched reaching in dark beauty for Heaven.
I will let Him strip me…of all our silly ideas about what beauty is. I will let Him de-leaf me…of all the worldly definitions of worth and value.
I will let Him take from me output and produce so that I can see that even without it, I stand. Grounded in Love.
I will let Him whisper that I ~ bare and unproductive ~ I, am what He is crazy about. Not what fluff I can come up with, not what I can do for Him, just me.
So as I wait for clothes, I will lift arms and rejoice in Creator who loves crazy and makes beautiful and imparts no shame.
I too, will be Winter unashamed.