When I heard the question being posed in my spirit, “What does the 2016 model look like?” Those that know me well know that I have a love for banged up old vintage pickup trucks. Some girls dream of new vehicles, yet for years I’ve dreamt of old pickup trucks that show the wear of time to match my eclectic high heel and blue jeans, city streets and country dirt roads life. Needless to say, I was intrigued having never been the type to keep up with the annual trend in vehicles.
I love to eclectically blend the old with the new. I always have. Maybe it began in high school with my preference of vintage coats or my family’s creative bent and love for beautiful décor and design, but suddenly this bent seemed to be highlighting volumes to me.
The New Model
I knew hearing a question like that was for my benefit more than God seeking an answer to a question He already fully understood. I also knew it wasn’t an invitation to move into striving mode, to draw up a five year action plan for my “make it happen” personality type. If I’ve learned anything through this long season of transition, it’s been sitting with the question and responding with, “YOU tell me, what does the 2016 model of Kimber look like?” and then inquiring together around the truest version of this year’s vehicle, usually a blend of some of the old original material and new design. That also means taking notice when my heart is resonating at its highest points.
As I’ve inquired and we’ve chatted, bit-by-bit, a spark of understanding has begun to light. As I’ve been willing to listen and learn to flow with the river, rather than force it, I’ve learned to let go of ill-fitting forms of transportation. I’ve become better equipped with a way of transportation initiated by spirit and inside out living, rather than self-will and ego. And even though my vehicle has been parked in storage for a time, I’ve sensed the engines being fired again and the gas to fuel the vehicle growing in power that is not self-made.
World Wide Delivery
This conversation began even prior to this question when my attention had been directed to the messages on passing trucks. As if there was a flashing light leading me, I was astounded to read, “God transportation,” “Fire Protection, safe guarding lives and property,” “United Parcel Service, world wide delivery, pickups, synthesizing the world…” As the conversation continued, I noticed a theme around parceling out packages.
And then the funniest thing began to happen, every time I ventured out in the morning, often at varying hours, I would see a parade of UPS trucks. The first morning there were four and the next time five and the most recent parade included twelve trucks!
I became giddy with anticipation around awareness of the abundance of gifts that have been parceled out and are ready for worldwide distribution. And like every child awaiting Christmas the excitement has been growing around the resurgence of seemingly dead dreams, dreams that have been set aside, buried and forgotten. There are an abundance of gifts and packages in route for delivery and those that thought they’d missed it, but have given themselves to a season of rest, listening and receiving, instead of striving, are about to receive new directives that might just include a little bit of the old dream, too!
The wait has felt long, but it has been a needful time of preparation. Now it’s time to allow the dust of disappointment to be blown away and to embrace the hope of what is to come as delivery has been set in motion. Even when the world seems hopeless and overshadowed with darkness there have been good gifts stored up within you! Vehicles (you and me) are being prepped and fueled for the road with a promise of delivery parceled out for the benefit of others.
This is a time to be on the look out for the true-new vehicle that you are in this season, the one that has been made road worthy and laden with gifts for delivery! This is a time for the hope carries to arise with their packages of joy!
Wow, here we are at Day 30! As a artist-life coach, I recognize the vivid correlation and creative tension between seasons that demonstrate life’s constant cycle of transition. Seasons allow for metamorphosis, design and recreating of our world. Understanding seasons is to understand a way of seeing, or sight into new realms. Seasons illustrate consistent change.
Continual transitions in life can take place from an inner spiritual reality before the move into an outer expression, but more often intermingles between both the spiritual and practical. Yet how often we try to divide life up into outer verses inner, sacred verses secular, practical verses ethereal when there seem to always be two paths intertwining and coursing through our lives. These are the paths of the sensual world of image, color, texture, movement and sound and the mystical path that lead us beyond words into a world we grasp to understand.
During times of change and transition it often feels to be counter-cultural as we mystically recognize the need to incubate, allowing our roots to sink down into the soil as our seeds winter over. The problem comes when we are pushed by driving counterfeit rhythms to keep up and so we resist the natural cycle life takes by forcing productivity and definition of that which is not ready to be defined.
I’ve sung my whole life. For forty years I’ve written songs and even been awakened in the morning with new songs on the tip of my tongue, until about five years ago when the singing stopped.
I knew that something shut down inside, because for the first time in my life melody wasn’t bubbling up from deep within. Previously I sang when things were good and I sang when things were bad. I also knew I couldn’t “fix” the gift that I didn’t initiate in the first place, but I suspected that my trouble was mistakenly basing my outlook only on what I could see. That kind of perspective would dash anyone’s hope.
Hope is a powerful thing. In fact, hope has a lot to do with how we interpret circumstances, how we look at the future and define things that do not yet exist. I’m typically a Pollyanna, but sometimes when the manifestation of hope wanes, the lack I perceive through my natural sight causes a feeling of deficit. That’s when the opportunity presents itself to choose how I will interpret what I cannot yet see.
Even though I hadn’t entirely recognized it, there had been tremendous fruitfulness in my life over the last several years. I only needed to recalibrate how I looked and what I saw. And that’s when I heard, “This is the year of singing.”
My hope has been popping off the charts over the last year. It’s not that every circumstance in my life has fallen into place, but rather that my hope and faith perspective have recalibrated. Hope is the substance of things yet to be seen.
Hope is consistently singing over every single one of us if we will tune in to hear the new song. This is the year of recognizing and embracing hope. This is the year of the songbirds returning.
Being a person generally perceived as strong and hopeful, I am always surprised at the surprise of others when I have the occasional off day. You know how it is; sometimes you seem to be spinning in a different frequency from your normal, your vision is blurred, causing an inability to see through the here and now to a greater reality.
It’s always in those times that I expand and discover more (I hope you do to.) The light comes to illuminate my darkness and I see better than before. I discover yet another illusion camouflaged as reality.
It’s easy to panic in that wobbly space before the dawn, as if the dawn isn’t coming! But when I think over my life, I realize that even in times of wobble, I have never landed on my backside without the grace to go on. I have an anchor living in me. This anchor of hope is what consistently keeps me afloat and steady even with my occasional wobbles.
Sometimes all we see is the struggle and so we fret, or those around us wring their hands in helplessness to assist. What we forget is that the occasional gap that may cause momentary trashing, results in greater expansion of vision and perspective. We can best support others when trusting and resting in the process, as we ourselves are carried into a greater grace. When we see others and ourselves through the lens of fullness instead of preoccupation with the struggle, we find ourselves aligning with this reality.
To pretend that we never wobble is hogwash! The more we are transparent about our wobbles the more permission we give others to be real about their own. No one lives without occasional wobbles. The question is whether in the times of wobble and lack of clarity, do we grasp that hope is the anchor that does the steadying?
Do you ever wonder what stops the flow of inspiration? Why does the well dry up and you feel parched and dry when the water supply is within and not out of reach?
Sometimes I put myself through mental gymnastics thinking I am isolated and alone, much like I felt as a child. That is UNTIL I realize that even if I feel alone, I’ve never ever been alone, except in my perceptions.
I know its popular to talk about perception, mindsets and shifts these days, but its because we are waking up to a reality that has always existed, but we’ve failed to see. We’ve had the wool pulled over our eyes, while in actuality the veil no longer exists.
We’ve looked outside of ourselves for the mirror image that exists within. We’ve looked for inspiration outwardly, when inspiration is busting at the seams with breath and life, hope’s meter tapping away love’s melody, wooing and including us in the passionate dance and resonance of life.
When I bump up next to you I feel the spray of breath, inspiration filling the air, new and alive, bumping up against the life of inspiration within me. It’s the patter of little feet, the baby in the womb stirring to the sound of the Father’s voice and likeness in each of us.
It’s asking you what you carry, what joy you’re pregnant with and what life you have to deliver? Grace announces that lack has been rescinded.
Starving while the table is set, this gap forgetting where there is no lack.
Swallowed up in Trinity glory, friendship of fullness, ache subsided.
Wrapped in over-loved goodness, caressed and lavished inexplicably strong.
You are not far off as some might be. You are not a wonderer, not like me.
You are steady and sure and constant devotion, like the ocean overflowing the beach.
Lapped up in embrace, no morsels of rationing,
no short sale, no barter for goods. Love completeness, flourishing full.