The Magic in Our Stories

My room is magical. There are stars on my ceiling (don't tell my RA) and every afternoon around supper time, a rainbow dances on my wall. I was reading Chaucer when it happened today...and if you know me, you know I'm tired of Chaucer...but the rainbow streamed onto my book and the meaning of that was not lost on me. That moment was holy. I was reminded how the redeeming love of my Author friend has touched the old, stale words and made them new and dazzling. And I felt His delight at my realization, at my recognition of His hand writing on the wall.

And all I can say, is now I can see that in the desert of yesterday, he was preparing the Paradise of today. That somehow, by the thinness of the veil, we can still see glimpses of his constellations. Have you ever wondered why we sleep inside? Why we don't let the winds work upon us and the night sky fill our visions? I must say, I've created a prison for myself. I've listened to lies and closed my eyes, but the sky came to me this time and stretched across my ceiling and I connected those dots and they showed me His face. Somehow, that rainbow we've longed to carry with us all of our days will slip silently through our open windows every afternoon and just settle there, in pools of light, waiting to be noticed. Oh, let's notice the details hidden in our stories together! Let's place the fires dancing within us side by side. Let's connect the dots to see where they lead us. Maybe we will go twirling down lanes of line after line, circling upon each other...only to find it was His fingerprint all along. Maybe we will go swirling forward in loops and squiggles...only to find it was his signature. Oh, do you know what He's written on your soul? I can tell you what it's like, but I can't tell you exactly how it feels when you find it. It's something like a long, pulsing warmth. Like something has wrapped itself around you and you can finally let go of having to hold yourself. And then you start to realize, in all of that sweet, calm breathing, that there's a heartbeat layering over your own. And sometimes I hear, "Welcome back, little one, oh how I've missed you."