The Clock Is Ticking

The clock is ticking.

Can you hear it?

Can you hear the rhythm of the beat of time?

Its resounding pounding in my chest never leaves. It always hovers, it never ceases.

The clock is ticking.

Time is moving forward, leaving behind all the things that encumber us.

Never going backwards, always moving into the future.

Its persistence drags us along, whether we want it to or not.

Tick tock, tick tock

It sounds threatening at times, as if a bomb is about to blow.

Tick tock, tick tock

It sounds soothing, a distant white noise that lulls.

Tick tock, tick tock

It sounds like the thunder of our lives, loud and powerful.

I cannot stop it. I can’t control its motion. Yet it follows me like a lost puppy trying to find a home. I want to run from it, tell it to stop. It continually creeps up on me, yet it is always constant.

It devours children and turns them into adults. It consumes life and leaves you with gray hair and wrinkles. Slowly sipping at the dreams that sit hidden inside.

It is time. It is time to take time by the horns and subdue it. To ride the wild beast and tame it. It is time to turn the ticking into an anthem of life. To write lyrics to the rhythm of the beating drum that constantly follows us.

It is time. It is time to push the hands of time into submission. To engage it with force and purpose. To bend the reality that is given to us. Dancing to the melody of its tempo and moving harmoniously in conjunction with the music within us that makes this life of time beautiful.

It is time. It is time to move into action. To stop the time bomb that is ticking and turn it into notes on a page of purpose and calling. No more will the hands shove and push us to do what it wants. Rather we will be one step ahead, declaring the promises of time and seasons.

Tick tock, tick tock

Can you hear it?

It’s your anthem to move, to dance.

To proclaim freedom from the bonds of time and live in the freedom of knowing you are called to a purpose that is greater than the constraints time puts on us.

Tick tock, tick tock

Do you hear it?

Tick tock, tick

Are you dancing to its beat?

Tick tock

Are you moved by its poetic resound?

Tick

Are you comforted by its lullaby?

Breathe, in

Breathe, out

You are the author of your own story.

Believe it

Live it!

Song of the wanderer

There seems to be a stirring, something murmuring around me. I cannot see it, but know it is there.

My heart pounds so loud, I can feel the motion in my throat. I breathe so hard it hurts. What is it? What is out there?

The undeniable reality of my existence has finally caught up to me. I am here. I have value. My isms are exactly as they should be. I walk around on the earth with the fervor of purpose and am driven to do so. In time. In time, I should say, as I don’t want to go before the Lord. I want to be in His will, in His time, in His atmosphere.

I breathe again. My chest echoes the pain of the deep landscape of my innermost parts. I am isolated, yet comforted; I am uncertain, yet sure. I am chastised, yet delight in it; I am misunderstood, yet authentic. My mind wanders to the place of unquestionable confidence that I am a wanderer.

I spoke of this once before. The mind blowing quote that reshaped the scenery of my life. “Not all who wander are lost.” I am not lost as I wander. I am not looking for answers or a place to rest my head; a place to settle or work. I wander, because that is the path that has been set out for me. I struggle with the notion that this is my life. I once dreamed of buying a house in the country with a barn and veranda and a white picket fence that my kids and grandkids grew up in. However, the truth of my life has been altered by the greatest desire in my heart, “to live by faith.”

There it is again. The stirring. It is making me restless, uncomfortable. I hear it moving closer, with a greater definition of sound. Like a rhythm it moves.

My heart begins to pound. Loud and fierce. It starts to skip beats and move around in pattern. Soon I notice that my heart is synchronizing with the rhythm all the around me. Yet I still do not see what it is. Its moving closer and I can just make out the words:

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

 

The words, written with such beauty and craftsmanship, floating across the page in timeless wonder, J.R.R. Tolkien. It is my language, the written word, left hanging in the air for interpretation and inspiration.

The song is sung on my heart and I harmonize to the tune as the notes fly through the air.

 

The road to home is long

It cannot be measured in miles

Signs do not tell the way

You hear the directions in a song

Marked by the pain and the trials

A new vision comes today

The path had been there all along

Covered by many large ash piles

As we step in the array

Of all the things that went wrong

A process that proved to be vital

When heart wants to obey

And so we continue on

Even though it will take a while

 

My heart beating to the same drum. I push on. Knowing that there is an end.

I walk, enjoying the ever changing landscape around me, taking in the sites like a tourist visiting for just a while. Knowing that soon I will be home.

THE DANCER

The music moves me.

Moves me to push my body in ways I do not normally move. I become one with the notes that dance across the page. Explosive emotion erupts like a volcano and I dance…

I move. I flow with flawless perfection. Only me and Lord see. No one else. In His eyes, there is nothing more beautiful. There is nothing more pure. I express my heart in a way that only He has seen. Not even my husband has seen me dance this way.

The music twists and turns with passion and my soul follows. My arms cut through the air with fluid rhythm and I am floating.

Tears stream from my eyes and I know my Savior is dancing with me. He writes the music on my heart. And I, I dance.

The music moves me.

It transfigures my DNA. It expends me. Sweat drips from my brow and muscles ache with delight. I move. I stir with aggravated intention. Pushing this broken body to the edge. Open, there is no limit to my expression.

The music drives the fervor inside of me. My legs twirl like a ballerina, but I reflect nothing of the sort. Yet I feel like I am on Broadway, dancing to perfection.

I am moved.

 Moved to go the distance; to stay the course. It breaks my sorrow, it tackles my pain. The movement gives way to freedom; and I cannot deny its call. Like water cleansing he soul, it washes over me and saturates my being.

Dancing…

I move to the music and it moves me.