It's ten minutes past a new Friday, and I'm still awake. I know I won't have time to write this later, so I'll do it now. I'm joining Lisa Jo and the Five-Minute Friday crew for another free-write post. The prompt today is "Roots."
I'm listening, now, to this song. Please, listen. And I peeked, a few minutes ahead, to let the prompt brew within my soul. Roots. And this song, it haunts my heart, echoes ballads of hope from wall to wall, until it settles in the floor lining. These, friends, are my roots.
Beautiful things out of dust.
I've always thought of roots as stretching deep and thick and wiry, down into the soil, latching to earth and refusing to let go.
But these roots, these mysterious roots, they grow upside down.
From dust they push up, out of earth to heaven,
from particles to wholeness,
from chaos to cosmos,
latching onto something more than soil,
aching for the light,
parched with hope,
desperate for beauty.
These roots spread up.
And I can't see it yet, friends. But with eyes of faith I beg to see my Creator shape beautiful things out of dust. Out of ashes.
Out of you. Out of me. Out of us.
Oh, I breathe out a yes. He's making all things new.