Higher, Deeper; I will go

This morning I wake up, make the coffee,
stir up some cinnamon bread in the quiet and the cool.

Over and over through my mind runs a song,
insistent, a reminder:

You have called me higher,
you have called me deeper,
and I will go where you will lead me, Lord.

~~

I headed into this summer saying
"I need a break from every last thing."

I thought it was because I didn't have the capacity for life;
I'm realizing it is instead a call:
To dig deep into quiet,
to let boredom feed contentment,
to listen for the more that is Him.

An object lesson right in front of my face is this plant:

Rescued from the last house, he didn't look so good.

Leaves like dead weights, branches like sticks.

On moving day, 

we put him in the light, 

and then I let him sit.

I didn't know what kind of plant he was,

didn't know what was written into him to do.

But what used to be sticks began to change before my eyes

into living, breathing, blood-pumping vines,

reaching out for a home.

Barren branches became leafier,

then, leafier more.

Branches reaching [literally reaching] to everywhere.

I got used to this expansion,

as I stood and looked at him in early mornings,

holding onto my coffee,

amazed at his desire for new life

and his slow but steady growth. 

After a while, I stopped looking--

I figured this was it.

We dwelt in peaceful togetherness,

but I stopped seeing him.

One morning not too long ago though,

I walked past and couldn't believe my eyes.

These weird flowers had budded seemingly overnight!

"Who knew?" I cried, "who knew?!"

I rejoiced in the growth,

the unexpected growth,

and the weirdness of this plant.

But I didn't even know the half of it.

A few days later, walking past, 

I drew in my breath and gasped out loud:

"What?!"

..."What?!"

As profound as that was, 

it was all I could think to say.

Those weird little buds had burst into something new,

unfolding their precious faces

one bunch at a time.

They're a wonder to behold,

in all their fuzzy detail.

Then this nectar started to form, 

clinging;

for days it has held on,

like tears too precious to just let go.

And I stand amazed, staring in wonder

 at the long slow season,

 the more than a year that it took

for the light to do its quiet work.

~~

This morning I wake up, make the coffee,

stir up some cinnamon bread in the quiet and the cool.

Over and over through my mind runs a song,

insistent, a reminder:

You have called me higher,

you have called me deeper,

and I will go where you will lead me, Lord.

He has led me straight to quiet,

as new life opens its precious face deep inside my soul.