To be caught on the winds of the evening and cast up high, high into God’s sunset is to see the world through different eyes. Looking down far I see with fresh perspective how very small we are in all this wide expanse of majesty that we barely notice when it isn’t holding us up with both hands.
And He holds us tight.
Every morning when I wake up He reaches out a Carpenter-rough hand to me and I blink blearily without contact lenses in yet and reach out a hand to be clutched in His. Tiny barefoot me pitter patters after Him, curious but not afraid of where He leads.
Today He leads me up to 30,000 feet and into His sunset.
Spread out like a map below me the world glows evening. And from this distance boundary lines are invisible with everything awash in clouds and the colors of another done day. Spent in airports and in between new faces, I would pay out this day the same if it came calling again.
So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.
Hands held for the first time and eyes looked into mine and faces lit up with smiles. New beginnings over frozen yogurt and French fries were just as delicious. Hearts raced and words stood up off the page and introduced themselves to me with only the barest trace of a Canadian accent. And comment boxes overflowed with laughter in real time and the correct ratio of ice to coke was shared, savored, enjoyed sweetening the waiting for our departure to be called.
Community up close and in person is beautiful. Community that steps off the pages of our flickering blue screens and packs rain boots and teddy bears because someone asked them to go and tell a story is worth leaving home and family to join.
Six days in Guatemala with three other bloggers and a thousand kids who will, I am certain, imprint themselves on our lives more than we could ever affect theirs. All we bring to them is our words and the offer to tell their stories. The commitment to see past the borders of our own lives and write down the expanse of what God is already at work at– long before we arrive and long after we leave.
We don’t go to do God’s work; we go to join in what He is already doing.
And the sunset blazes a trail behind us, the frozen yogurt makes its way comfortably to my thighs, and tomorrow I will meet a hundred children who don’t yet know that I exist. But I am certain in the midst of all this, that what He is doing –what He has invited us to do with Him- is so very, very good.