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Some days I have to remind myself that this molded dust and clay holds life. And not the “oh wait, is my heart still beating?” kind of life. But Life. Capital L. Life.

Some days it just gets boring. Or frustrating. Or impossible (Don’t go all Mt. 19:26 on me. You know what I mean. It just feels impossible.)

And in those days I try to remind myself that this is just the way Life is lived right now. All dusty and messy and fallen. And the only true test of knowing whether or not I’m Living is if I’m Breathing.

Not breathing in the breath of lungs. But the Breath of Life. That is what we were given in The Beginning. And that is what will sustain us until The End.

If you are looking for signs of Life among your days, look for Breath. Look for the sacred inhale and exhale. And if you can’t find it–if you can’t locate that sacred Breath, then turn your face to Heaven and just Breathe. Let that inhalation be a prayer–a prayer that you will see Life…

Fallen Garden – Mandy Thompson, 2011, ASCAP

We all walk this fallen garden:
shrouded vines and signs of
life in lingered shadowed death.
Betrayed and dismayed by our own knowing,
we only wanted something–
hungering for the betterment.
And we search for all the secret reasons,
sifting through each season.
Ever changing, never rests.
In our searching, we will walk this garden,
struggling for perfection.
Every breath a breaking in.

Our walk will wind and wander farther.
Though lush it still is lacking,
reaching for the consummate.
Scraped by sword and scene of angels.
Never ceasing dreaming:
what was then and what is best.
But we hope for all the secret reasons,
sifting through each season.
Ever changing, never rests.
With each morning we will walk this garden,
striving for perfection.
Every breath a giving in.

And we know that at the end of seasons
we will find the reason.
All is well and all at rest.
Until then, we will walk this garden
held by His perfection.
Every breath a breathing in.