A blustery spring wind blew outside my window.
Waking me before the sound of my alarm.
Just before sunrise.
Some cream in my coffee and I readied for the day.
Looking for warmth I reached for my thick, knitted scarf. The one with the knobby, textured baubles. The one that’s perfect for keeping out the chill.
Soon enough I was at the park.
I watched as leaves, dried crisp and angular, tumbled across the road. Like children kart-wheeling out the door on the last day of school.
Tall, ornamental grasses eagerly waved me onto the path.
It was brisk.
But beautiful!
Yesterday’s rain must have been steeped in emeralds. Almost overnight the open field had been transformed. Tufts of green as far as the eye could see.
Clover too, now plump and virescent.
A delight to the wild rabbits who hurriedly hopped away as I came near. Hiding in the brambles of winter, content with the notion of spring.
As the blowing persisted I pressed into the wind on my walk. Head tipped, eyes down.
A palpable presence.
Real resistance.
Cold air now nipping at my cheeks. Leaving them a ‘cheery’ pink. Akin to the budded blossoms of the crab-apples. Waiting for May’s warm kiss.
The wind rushed past my ears, howling through the treetops.
Birds soaring against the morning sky, making little headway against the unrelenting gusts.
Like feathered kites on ample strings.
Flying high above.
Today it was the wind.
But lately I’ve recognized that I am often the resistance in my days. The invisible obstacle that stands between me and the joy that I desire most.
Desperately wanting things to be different, but not knowing how to go about it.
Then something changes…
Have you ever felt like God was pursuing you in a big way?
When for days in a row there are people and circumstances that speak to you.
All with the same underlying theme.
All muttering a message.
Leaning into a lesson.
…
This past week, was like that.
I became caught in a flurry of frustration.
Perhaps it was the week back from my time off that threw me for a whirl.
But no matter the scenario, I noticed I was often responding to upheavals in life in the same way. Big or small, it didn’t matter.
And it wasn’t pretty.
I held a defensive and angry thought posture. Ready to block any potential threats. Throwing punches at inequity.
I found myself gathering resentments when things didn’t go the way I thought they should.
Barking at my daughter if she didn’t complete a chore to my satisfaction, or in a time frame that I felt was adequate.
Repeated last-minute schedule changes left me exasperated and overwhelmed.
I found myself spewing verbiage like venom.
Sharp-tongued and short-sighted.
I stepped back to see myself.
(choke.)
I had become a master at defending my hurting heart. Responding to the repeating repertoire in my head.
The same ‘tapes’ have played over-and-over since childhood:
You are not worth loving.
You are not good-enough.
You will never be.
Years passed and I pushed the ‘pause’ button on my thought recorder every once in a while.
A short respite to get married.
And later, to have a child. My Sweet Louise.
But then as life presented ongoing challenge and relational strains, I returned to the familiar.
Pushing ‘play’ again.
This self-deprecating reel of negativity was all I knew. And in a twisted way the shame and beratement became my companions. They felt like home.
There was a perceived benefit, of course.
You see, as long as I maintained this presence of mind I would continue to be emotionally unavailable.
Emotionally unavailable = no one can get close enough to hurt me again.
All the while I was still feeling empty and unloved. Wounded and wandering in this, my internal angst.
For decades I had been stuck in this pattern.
But now, the ugliness suddenly didn’t feel so comforting. Rather, it seemed more like a guest who had overextended a stay.
Unwelcome.
Unwanted.
I was beginning to see the connection.
They were lies that had been woven into the fabric of my perception of this world. Just another example of the enemy’s deceitful distraction.
Lies that broke me and kept me fighting to keep the hurt out.
Then finally… I arrived.
I’d come to the place in my life where I knew it was time.
It was time to hang up the boxing gloves.
Deuteronomy 20:4
For the LORD your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.
I sobbed into my pillow.
Grateful for the desperation that brought me to surrender, but completely lost as to how I could move forward.
My heart was buried in a heap of sadness and regret.
Then I heard Him whisper.
Grace.
…
Simple.
Quiet.
Radical grace.
Grace that covers the gaping wounds of decades past.
Grace that fills the empty and lonely heart.
This grace ~ an extension of the unfathomable love that died on a Cross for us. The monumental sacrifice that released us from the dark and despairing prisons of our mind.
Not only freeing us from the patterns that bind us, but offering the promise of life eternal.
This grace… is everything!
It is the uncommon beauty in a world consumed with self-serving agendas.
It is the love of our God in action.
A love so fervent, so fierce that He will stop at nothing to save us from ourselves.
Calling out to us in each and every moment that we might recognize His presence.
In the breathless whispers of nature. In the forgiveness of friends and loved ones. In the provision we seek, and the peace that we are thirsting for.
This grace that is unconditional.
Grace that is our Savior.
Indeed our Messiah has come!!
Luke 1: 32-33
He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the LORD God will give to Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His Kingdom there will be no end.
Remember how I said that I felt like God had been pursuing me in a big way?
Well, after the surrender I was picking up the pieces of my fractured faith.
Still feeling a bit unsteady.
Then the next day at work, a five-year old little boy breathed fresh air into my newly opened heart.
Darling Brevyn.
…
Brevyn was curious about a child that he had seen in the office. A child who was blind.
When I asked if he knew what blind meant, he said ‘no’. I proceeded to explain to him, in five-year-old terms, that this child’s eyes didn’t work and that he couldn’t see.
Brevyn questioned, his brow furrowed, “Not for today?”
“Not for ever,” I somberly replied.
Brevyn paused.
Then his face lit up and he shared a story with me…
“Well, that’s ok,” he said. “Because when that little boy is in Heaven, Jesus will give him a new body and new eyes and he will be able to see everything!”
“God can do anything, can’t He, Brev?”
“Oh yes,” he said assuredly. “When Daniel was with the lions, God closed their mouths (putting his hand over his own) so that they couldn’t eat him!”
He continued, “And Jesus died on the Cross, but in two days God made Him alive again! So God can make that little boy see!”
He spoke with such wisdom.
Such conviction.
Unwavering and confident.
And with an unfaltering trust that touched me to the core.
God’s power is not limited to Biblical times. He is moving today in our world.
In a world where we are crying for healing.
I was in the presence of our Heavenly Father there in that little room. This sweet child just witnessed to me ~ someone nearly fifty years his senior.
That I might see through this incredible child’s faith-window at the world.
Moving my heart. 
Matthew 18:4
Whoever then humbles himself as this child, he is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
So there you have it.
God’s relentless pursuit of my heart, this week. Pulling me closer. Drawing me deeper to a greater understanding of who He is.
May this Holy Week bring brisk winds of change in the places of your life that you’ve been praying about.
And may we all begin to live a little more like Brevyn. Walking in wholehearted trust, claiming God’s wondrous work in our lives.
Confidently knowing that the fight for our hearts has already been won!
The moment that Christ overcame the grave, He sealed our victory.
Wishing you abundant Easter blessings ~ from our home to yours.
My Sweet Louise 
Please share your thoughts.