Tuesday Nights

Tuesday nights are my night.  Sometimes, I turn off the tv and just sit on one of our decks letting the night soak into me as it soaks into the day.  The sun sinks behind the trees that shelter our house from the worst heat, and shadows deepen across our yard.  Nightsongs dwindle into occasional notes, and I make a wish on the first star just like I have done since I was little when I sat in my thinking tree taking my first dip into night.

Sometimes, when pain is too great, I walk.  The agony doesn’t go away, the glass shards still cut my feet as I walk; yet…repristination begins somewhere deep within me, and my wounds, still bleeding, begin a healing process that I have yet to understand.  How is it that stepping on a fallen twig in the woods, or seeing a butterfly weave its way over the hayfield or smelling the sweetness of clover rise on the smallest of breezes can staunch the flood of red?

I may not feel God’s hand actually binding my wounds, but I see His fingers molding each prototype of creation that surrounds me.  The miracle of the fallen stick that is way too big for my chocolate lab to be carrying, yet she begs to play “stick” with it, tripping me in the process.  Hmm….do I need to be learning something here?  A small clover flower that escaped the hay mowing last week lifts its purple head above the new growth, and I admire its persistence. Another lesson waiting to be uncovered?  A brown bunny half crouching – half sitting watches me walk and waits to see if my lab is a hunting dog.  (Lucky for the bunny, she is much more interested in “stick” today.)   Yet, another lesson?  God  is knitting the edges together just like He wove my pattern long ago, and the tears sink back into my eyes.

That is when I remember.  Tuesday nights are my nights for prayer, devotions and Bible studies.   It’s what gets me through the rest of the week.  Whether I sit on the deck, walk through the field, or prop my feet up with my Bible open, Tuesday nights are my communion time with my Father.  Eyes open wide to see the gloriously white Hibiscus that is folding in on itself after a day in the sun.  Re-sensitized ears discern the buzzing of the cicadas from the croak of the bullfrog close to the koi pond.  Uncalloused fingers touch the budding daylillies that will open soon.  And the smell of tomorrow drifts on the breezes that cloak my body with their coolness.

It’s Tuesday Night and I remember … I am blessed to be where I am, doing what I do and learning every day.


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