God is always working, whether you realize it or not.
The realizing it is just extra grace. The cherry on top of your sundae. Or mango slice. Whatever’s your favorite.
The God-currents are always moving beneath, coursing underfoot and streaming overhead, surrounding you and invisible to you.
And then there are moments when he lifts a short corner of the veils and you see a glimpse of what he’s been up to in your life, all the threads that are in their perfect places, and it’s like tears of joy, cries of triumph, cause all you’ve been looking at is the raggedy underside and the topside is so, so beautiful. It’s coherent and awe-inspiringly unique and…yours. And God’s. The weaving-in-tandem has been going on all the time, all over the place, in all the moments when you felt lost-est and raggediest and even in those moments when you thought you were doing okay on your own. The point is that you weren’t ever alone in these endeavors, good and bad.
Thank God for these moments of fleeting coherency. For bracing breaths-of-air conversations held in the fuzzy hours of the too-early morning, pretending you’re still in college but somehow less…good at life than back in high school. For realizing, though, that growth is in the pain and that pain is in the growth.
All the blah blahs and thankfulnesses incompetently expressed, summer nights passing by too quickly, and waking up to sleep-deprivation headaches and stargaze smiles at the realization that we’re all standing in our own patch of green, both sides of the fence different shades but neither better or worse. Just different, and acceptable, which is better than enough.