What the grains say

I can't add a single grain of sand to my life's hourglass.

It spills and spills. God allows it to pour downword, grain after grain.

My life holds a rhythm only He can hear. He knows the cadence of my breaths and my heartbeats. Like a baby in the womb who grows inside the rhythm of his mother, the Lord is intimately familiar with mine.

Last year, I started blogging. It wasn't my first venture into writing. But it is the first long term record of my journey. I began lining up strings of letters against the grains of sand spilling. Key strokes clicked to my rhythm, gave the grains a voice.

When I'm leaning into my Lord, I find my stride, and the grains spill with a melody conducted by the Life-giver Himself. The sand splashes down, radiating life, purpose, and nourishment in abundance, so I can then spill out to others.

My words try to capture time passing. They reflect divine work mingled with human effort. If I've learned anything from blogging, it is this: when I am disconnected from the Lord, I lose my voice. The grains beat the base of the hourglass with a crisp, empty echo.

But they keep spilling. They don't wait for me. They pound hollow until I wake up.

I can't get the lost ones back.

As soon as I remember to open the eyes of my heart, I know what to do: stop and reconnect. And then forgive myself. Deep inside, I know something precious has been wasted.

When connected and walking in His truth, I have something to say, my rhythmic clicking, my offering held up in my two pale and aging hands. When once I yield to the Lord's leading after wandering away for the millionth time, I hear the melody of my hourglass rise. Once again, my time spills with beauty and purpose like a song.

No one can silence the song of a life lived within the will of God.
Neither does death bring it to an end.
Not even the powers of hell can stop what God is doing through His children.