Windows

It's March. I'm sipping my Good Earth tea, listening to my Selah Pandora station, and watching snow flurries swoop and swirl along roof tops and through tree branches.

Windows. Vantage points. Frames of scenes. Their significance in my own life is powerful and moving - and steadying.

Sprawling scenes of beauty are awe-inspiring, humbling, glorious sights to behold. I know. I see them every day - when I drive to work or to the grocery store. But on this day I feel grateful for the gift of windows, of boxes and circles of scenes, clippings of homes and barely budded branches and snow in March - creating boundaries for my mind's eye, so I can see all of the little pieces of beauty I might otherwise miss if there were no boundaries to my sight.

In every season of my life, there was a window - a visual representation of my world at that time - and some of the most grounding, peace-giving, restful moments that I have known have been in front of those windows. Be it silently whispering Spanish moss over lake waters kissing grassy shores again and again or the tip tops of grandiose mountains held up by the blazing red leaves of fall, windows have always invited me to pause and appreciate the grace of sameness and of limitations.

I want to know it all. I want to see ahead, to know the plan, to side step the mistakes and run hard toward the successes. I want to see the intricacy of a God-sized plan. When will the hard end? When will it begin? Will my dreams come true? Will my life matter? What is God going to do next?

I feel like I'm walking blind in the middle of today, and sometimes it's plain unnerving. But then I think about my windows. Abide. Ask. Wait. Be still. Know. Limitations can be grand gifts. They invite us to see the detail right in front of us, to take a break from staring at the horizon and rest in knowing that God has all the rest of the world held firmly in His hands, and today I am responsible for my little piece, my window. And my view won't always be the same. Soon there'll be a new window to peer and ponder through, but today I have this one, and if I take the time, there is so much to see, so much to enjoy, so much of God's love to absolutely relish.

Like snow in March.


What's your view today?

When your window view frames ache and loss and frustration, you might be tempted and eager to find a new view immediately. I've been there, but God has so much to teach us, so much love to heap upon us in those views, too. If you are looking for some honest words about loss - in particular miscarriages - I wrote a book chronicling my journey through a year when my view was one that I never would have chosen for myself. The theme, though, is that Jesus always gets you where you need to be. He is pursuing you, and my journey just might give words to some of the struggles you're experiencing. Click here for a FREE copy of The Down and Dirty Truth about Miscarriages.