believing just went out the door.

a gift given this weekend.
time off when I was ready to work.
what to do?! wah!
stand there on the unit like I did, in scrubs
shaking with excitement.
hardly able to believe.

in weirdest, greatest ways He comes down, lays down -
takes you up and leads you on.
'Who do you say I am?'

belief keeps growing,
as you walk down steps,
though the door,
run down the street
burst through another - and pack, and hurry, and not take too much time to think about whether to receive the gift given.

and realize that this is choosing to believe.
allowing receipt,
and gobbling it up like an excited pre-teen, growing boy.
no regret. just thanks.
hurtling down the highway toward what you are so grateful to have.

still believing, though traffic gets heavy and competitive;
though en route you realize you forgot some essentials;
and though the clouds lay a downpour too -
though you're bringing just a rumpled-up you to the party.
still believing because you haven't turned back.
He provides -
you just went out the door.


thanks from the road:

• good waves goodbye.
• CBC Radio 2 - I heart you and your folk songs.
• golden sunsets at your back.
• big, blue skys.
• dark, lightening-striken ones.
• patient rabbits in the back seat.
• ! the group 'canoeing' from the windows of their farm truck.
• laughing at them, and thus having them drive by thrice to show off sweet 'paddling' skills.