the rain fell tonight on my face looking up
but i didn't really mind.
i heard their call as they flew towards me,
high up overhead and i watched them circle round,
straight over my house.
i closed my eyes,
lost myself in the distinct sound of home
and heard something more...
they fly right above my head and i can hear it,
in the silence and the rain;
the strength in their wings that push through the air,
as they struggle to form that V.
i opened my eyes to fully see what i was hearing
and together, in tandem, their wings sound like the ocean...
like the rippling of grain bowed golden in a prairie wind...
and my memories feel like those geese,
the ones who fly south in a mild december sky.
as they struggle and heave to make sense of those days and nights from 2 years ago.
but the one that i can't seem to let go of?
the one that seems to take the lead and push through and past air that fights back with pain?
it's from that last night, the 28th, from two decembers ago,
where we sit at a table filled with cards to play pinochle and they all know,
he knows i wasn't raised in a house that played cards.
he knows, they all know, that to choose to be on my team means sure and swift and utter loss.
but still,
he chose me.
and it's this memory, more than any other, that leaves the largest gap in my heart tonight.
but, in the way that he always did, he points me back to Jesus.
and in words spoken to His twelve that He loved,
they remind me of the heart of the man who pulled me in and called me his own,
you did not choose Me, but I chose you
and appointed you to go and bear fruit -
fruit that will last...
john 15:16
and i stand under a sky filled with the call of canadian geese,
i hear the strength of their wings that push through the air,
and it becomes a song of hope that weaves through a heart struggling with grief.
He chose me.
and if He has chosen me, He is with me.
He chose me.
and if He has chosen me, He is with me.
and the sorrow becomes an easier thing to bear...
