Mid-Race

I've hardly been floundering enough to manifest a blog, yet I've been stirred enough to know that pouring out and streams-of-consciousness are quite enough to get a fire going.
This reminds me much of my Livejournal from High school: a private, personal place to go public with everything. The past two days I've written ridiculous-length letters to friends. Nothing they've asked for mind, but I just whisper a bit and then travel and espouse and fall in the mud and keep talking. And I've been hopping every ten minutes to see if they write anything back, to see if it stirs an ember. Always looking elsewhere for a little strike/ignite action. (noted dissonance with peace/my walk/the word of God). But here I declare God's glory and goodness, surety to fulfill his promises wholly. and here...

I'm still here. It's cool to say on this side of the veil, for it's no longer with a hint of impending removal. The Lord's just kept me by His side and Here I Am. HI(y)A! Found in him. I find me here. I adore those phrases that reveal the Aha! of his revelation: 'I find' is the chief among them. I'm also very much into the way he crystalizes his reality to us, visions and impressions that he yanks from the unused portions of our brain that make us revel in the things which were there but ever-unknowable.

I do labor to enter his rest. He does it; he supplies the strength, desire, the oil for ease, the faith. It's like he said 'Make a house' and rather than flipping out because we don't know how to make a house we listen to the rest of the statement that goes 'here's the plans, the consultants, the workman, the weather, the time, materials, dedication, and energy' and we're left with nothing but our Huh? face on and the one unanswered question: so what do I have to do? Like, actually? mmBasically we're left with Campfire ease and a Sunset promise.

I galapagogo this walk with God. It's a new sort of dance.
To a short outsider it looks like spasms, and it seems like the funky chicken if you're tall.
To the cross-eyed it's clear I fly, and to the lost traveler it looks like I'm going somewhere.
To the one who shuts his eyes he hears my music;
to the one who tries to see into what I'm doing he glimpses sparks and rain and wind and fire;
the one who joins me dances into eternity.
A song on my lips,
a rhythm in my hips,
into the anointing of God I slip and am lost forever,
found by no mere man,
sought only in spirit,
discovered by the son of man this child-like grace floods about me
and I swim with no need for air.
How this way looks foolish is incredible when it makes so much sense.
Just walk under - in the shade and the son,
just walk under never fearing 'cuz you belong,
just walk and keep on walking 'cuz this joyous work is never done.
Allelu the son of God,
Allelu the being,
Allelu the faithful one who walks in faith unseeing.