Today, my Lord, I have grown tired. The burden of my insignificance heavy upon me. The bruise on my arm a reminder that there are those who do not care I am here.
Sweeping the front step of my employer’s store, surrounded by a dust cloud perpetuated by a dry land, dispassionate villagers care not that they knock me to and fro.
My day’s chores seem unending and unrewarded.
I want to escape. To run into the presence of the one who breathes life upon my soul. But the dust did not only shield me from view. It darkened you from my mind as well.
I tried to daydream of you, to find happiness amidst the mockery of hope, but the dream did not come. Your image faded as if covered beneath the debris of my brokenness. For a moment, I thought I would not find you, that maybe I had never
found you. Sorrow filled my heart and tears burst forth.
But I cannot forget our garden, my Lord. And so, at the end of the day, I left the village. Tears washing the dirt from my face, I walked towards you.
My shoes were filled with gravel and, with every step, bit the soles of my feet. My sweat soaked garment clung to my body. Wiping my brow, the closeness of my own bed in the village brought more solace than the journey to your garden, but I pressed on.
By the time I arrived, the sun was dipping just below the horizon, casting shadow upon the wrought iron gate.
Tranquility spilled forth as an intangible cloud that engulfed my body and nurtured my soul. The celestial twilight penetrated my spirit, renewing me from the inside. You were there. I could feel you.
Although the evening’s air began to cool, my skin was feverish. Nearing the gate, I let go my shawl allowing it to slip from my shoulders, down my back and onto the ground. Two steps before entering I pulled the slip knot from my hair, shaking the dust from my locks and letting them cascade down my back. I stepped out of my shoes and left them at the foot of the gate before entering your garden.
Leaving the path, I stepped barefooted onto the chilled grass. With each step, the coarse blades scrubbed the dirt from the soles of my feet. The night air dried my dress until it lay loose around me.
The cicadas serenaded the evening sky and the garden erupted in dance. I could do nothing but join in. My arms lifted and pulled my torso from side to side. Reaching towards the earth, I skimmed my fingers along the blades of grass before leaping into the air and throwing my hands towards heaven. Twirling, I joined the garden in rhythm and song until my lungs hurt from the sting of inhaling too much cold air too quickly.
Pausing to catch my breath, I saw you in the distance. Barely making out your silhouette, the only aspect of your darkened figure evident was the smile upon your face. You were watching me.
With one foot in front of the other, I bowed towards you. For you, my Lord, are the true joy that invades my heart and sets my foot to dance.
Your enraptured servant
“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever. Psalms 30:11-12 (NIV)
Dance, sing and rejoice in the one who sees you no matter your circumstance. And know, his refreshing is for evermore.