May I Have This Dance?

August 29, 2009

Today was especially challenging. I woke up lonely. Had it not been for the kids needing breakfast, perhaps I would have spent the day in bed. Not because I was tired, but because my heart was too heavy to get up. How does this happen? I have it all, so it would seem from the outside looking in. I’ve been tremendously blessed… indeed, but I’ve made tremendous misjudgements. As a result, the proverbial bar is raised to a very high standard. As such, sometimes life is a little lonely. It’s okay. Exclusive selection is a process and such a process often takes time.

Time. Precious time.

I peeled myself off the sheets and set about my course for the day, eventually arriving at a yard sale down the street on my way to the Farmer’s Market. There were odds and ends all across the property, large and small for treasure hunters abounding the neighborhood. As I approached the gate to enter the property, my eyes fell upon some framed art displayed along the iron fence. I stopped in stunned amazement. There propped amongst the framed pieces was a print of The Singing Butler by Jack Vettriano — my very favorite piece of modern art in all the world. The original painting is a back view of an elegant lady in a stunningly beautiful long, red dress and contrasting bare feet as she is waltzed on a sandy beach by an equally elegant gentleman dressed in tux and tails. They are being serenaded under cover of an open umbrella by a singing butler. Hence, the title of the piece, I would imagine.

Sight of it literally stopped me in my tracks. I stood there, gaping. This print served as a vivid reminder that I am in Daddy God’s arms. This is His dance. The serenade is that of His choosing. Its timing. Its tempo. Its duration. He has given His angels charge over me. He will not allow my foot to slip. The ocean waves can only come as far as He allows. Being the gentleman that He is, He asked me if He could have this dance. I accepted. I follow His lead.

I am quite confident that the artist did not have my metaphoric ideal in mind when his brush graced the canvas, ultimately gifting us with his beautiful masterpiece. However, art  being subjective and all, I adore the piece, holding precious the imagery it inspires in my heart every time I see it.

I bought the print.

One day, in Daddy God’s perfect timing, He is going to allow me to finally waltz with that beautiful man whom He has purposed for my life. Only He knows for sure when and if that will be. God is perfect, you know, and He will not be rushed. I trust that He knows what’s best for me. I know I am precious in His sight. He is so loving to remind me, in ways that only He can, that I am never alone.

I am my Beloved’s and He is mine.

Vettriano

Indelible Traces

August 19, 2009

Indelible traces of your presence fill the treasury of my heart. Musical. Artistic. Mystical. Poetic. Literary. Liturgical. Historical. Geographical. Biological. Chemical. Curious. Intrigue. Comedy. Tragedy. Ridiculous. Serious. Insane. Sincerity. Humane. Every auspicious wonder somehow expresses your indelible fingerprints all over my life. 

Expression. A thing I can’t quite grasp when it comes to describing the traces you’ve left on my life, my heart and my mind. A thousand expressions. Ten thousand different nuances. Each one new. One impression deep in my soul. Never once did I dream that you would touch me this way.

I’m not even sure of when you arrived. Far before I was aware you were here. You’ve known me forever. From the beginning, it seems.

Indelible traces reveal evidence of where you’ve been along my path and what you’ve seen. You know. You’ve seen with your very own eyes. Your eyes… so knowing.

Indelible traces lead me to places I never known, before you.

fingerheart