I’ve listened to “The Only Thing” by Ronnie Freeman many times. Speaks my heart.
I hold it together. Every day.
Lipstick, hair, jewelry.
What you see is me, in part. What I see of you is you, in part.
But the hallways of my heart…Would you be surprised?
Would you see the work that Grace has done?
The inside…messy, selfish, fearful…
The only thing that’s good in me is You, Lord.
I know the truth of who I am.
I know me well enough to know that no matter what shows on the outside,
the only thing in me that is good is Jesus.
No more exuberant greeting, freshly shaved face, or tender hug.
No more fist bump as he passed our pew after communion.
I never realized how much he did for me.
And now he’s gone.
What do I do with that?
He’s gone, and dad’s gone.
The tweed gentlemen…patriotic, honorable, kind.
After dad, his presence comforted.
When I hugged him, my cheek brushed his sportcoat, his cologne a reminder of good and of memories. And he always kissed and patted.
Did he know he served my heart? Did he know his kindness was precious?
I won’t again walk into church without remembering him.
The tweed gentlemen aren’t here.
but are There…
” And by Your grace I’m made what I’m not. My unrelenting, ever creating, my ever chasing God. ”
It only happens when I’m captured.
I wait to write. Until I can’t wait any longer.
Because it has to be authentic. Artificial has no place here.
I heard it this morning. Grace in the showering, hair and toothpaste. Grace in the making of bed…
The music captures, his voice and lyrics. “At the well, I heard You call my name”.
Calling me by name. Grace
“I drew You water but You drew me further”
Can it be? He chases? He redeems?
Being made into what I’m not.
This I know for sure.