Thursday, October 3, 2013


Confetti ~ In the Inbetween Places.

The kids tucked into car seats, warm October day with sun beaming.
Where is that rain the weather radio hinted of?
This is the inbetween place.

Summer still holding on, gripping tightly,
it's last performance call, splendid brilliance and
almost-impossible gifted days of last warmth.
Autumn hot on its tail,
slowly orchestrating splendor.
You can feel the hint of chill in the breeze.
The inbetween place.

Out of the driveway,
the confetti rolls.
Breathtaking whirlwinds of tiny yellow leaves
swirling and enveloping the car.
We all gasp.
Confetti like a wild Creator party,
heralding the coming of the new.
The new season.
God celebrates the death of summer warmth--
with confetti.

My kindergarten-wise-one asks,
"Mom, do the trees not need their leaves anymore?"
That's exactly it.
There is beauty in the discarding and the death of the old.
There is rest.

The trees know:  this is the season of rest.
Get rid of the unnecessary--and let beauty be found in the falling sound.
What clues them in that this is the resting time?
The air?

The inbetween place.
The space between what was, and what will be.
Soft and subtle.
This is their cue.

God is at work, in the inbetween place.
When one season is closing, and the next is not yet revealed.
I find myself often unsettled in the inbetween place.
Wondering where I am,
Where God is.
Yet He is conducting the entire show.
And He speaks:  Child, REST.

Child, TRUST.

My day began with beautiful confetti,
I basked in the smiles of precious little ones,
watched the tiny ripples on my "lake,"
and lost my breath when a crane
swooped over the water.

Yet why I end some random days with
anxiety and it's-ugly-tangled-twin depression on my heels again?
It mystifies me.
I put up fists to fight wild hard.
I feel defeated--thinking I had already busted-the-jaw
of this wild creeping beast.
And God declares:  REST.

Rest in My goodness,
Rest in my working all things for your good.
Rest in My power over this.
Over every season of your life.
Rest, knowing that:

I bring BEAUTY out of dying places.
Splendor untold,
confetti parties,
ushering in the new.

And you, fragile one?
You are in the driver's seat,
front row seat to watching my magnificence
erupt your tired places
into absolute 

Yes, I dance in the confetti
of the inbetween place.
My soul learning how-to-rest.
Rest being spelled:

"And the children of men take refuge
in the shadow of Your wings.
They drink their fill of the abundance of 
Your house;
And you give them to drink of the river
of Your delights."

{ Psalm 36: 7-8 }

Drink your fill of His goodness.
Claim His promises over you.
He is faithful.

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