As I sit here in my little courtyard, in the centre of my little home, surrounded but not very much I’m still incredibly aware of how blessed I am in what appears to be the worst season we have ever faced, well, in my lifetime. I can imagine war times would have been much much worse but I guess we are facing our own wartime. Covid looms and with it, the future is uncertain but I have a sense that I am more secure than ever, kept safe in what I term “The Cleft of the Rock”.
There’s a Hebrew word, Sela’ which means “a cleft or an opening made a by a split in the mountain”. It was one of the safest places to hide in early times. In some ways, Covid has caused a split, a crevice and we have all retreated into the safety of our own space, our own homes, hoping and praying that we will be well. We’re on high alert, wondering what will come next, but strangely, I feel safe. I’m hiding in the cleft of the rock, a rock I’ve come to know as Jesus.
In this place, I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for the smallness of where I am. Perhaps in some ways, it’s like a little ‘cleft’ for me, and tho this place is still not my own, it’s it feels right, it feels very safe. A hiding place. A shelter for this season. A refuge.
I’m led to believe that light has been shed on how we view our families, our possessions, our dreams, our world. We’re asking ourselves ‘what is important, what now, what will our future hold? How do I navigate this season of uncertainty?’
For me, It’s the little things.
I’m so grateful for the little things.
A bird that wags his tail in joyful dance and makes my smile.
I’m grateful for air in my lungs, for breath, for life.
I am thankful beyond measure for what I have right now and I’ve decided that the little things are enough for me.
I’m not saying that I won’t be building for a future, because I am, but more than anything I am thankful that Covid has made me take a long look at what I value and I can honestly say, it’s not the big things.
As I sit here ready to end this little blog, the sun has dipped below the horizon. The sky is darkening and hues of blue and pink are lit up by a half moon light. I can hardly believe my eyes! A little bird has just now landed on the clothesline right beside me. He’s fanning out his tiny black tail. Little white-tipped feathers wag left and right as he performs his glorious dance, just for me and I smile with delight.
Here, in the cleft of my rock, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am safe and I am seen.
It’s the little things