What are the chances of this leaf falling directly into my cup of tea? I mean, it's not like leaves are falling like crazy around here. Nor was I trying to catch them like my son yesterday with his baseball glove. It's not particularly windy today either. I was sitting here holding my cup. I saw a leaf fall in my peripheral. I looked down. And there it was, in my tea.
Right before this, I was gazing past the candle flickering on my table to our sloped and wooded back yard. I can't recall what I was thinking about exactly. I get lost in thought often. Perhaps I was thinking about the baby deer, still wearing her spots, exploring our neighbors' yard. Maybe it was our kitten, Chipanbotato, who seemed to be debating whether or not to climb the tree she got stuck in yesterday. Perhaps I wasn't thinking about anything but was simply enjoying this beautifully overcast, cool, kidless, and seemingly enchanting moment.
Whatever it was, this little leaf has my attention now. I can't figure out how it fell from the tree beside me, past my face, and directly into my cup. As I sit here with my mind blown contemplating all of the things that had to align for it to happen, I wonder if we sometimes approach the love of God this way. Like, maybe we think things in our lives need to align perfectly for us to have the chance to be known and loved by the God of the universe.
I've been on a journey of self-awareness for a while (I know, you're wondering what self-awareness has to do with leaves and God loving me, but stick with me for a minute). This last year or so, my journey became a bit more concentrated. Sometimes disheartening. Sometimes discouraging. Sometimes almost crushing. I might have even quit if there was a way to unlearn what I learned. Since real life doesn't work like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Men in Black, I didn't have the option; I had to keep trudging through myself.
It took a while, but I'm learning to give in to the flow and allow the Holy Spirit to guide me gently through these rocky waters, but still, I sometimes want to resist. "You can't have intimacy without vulnerability," He reminds me with His sweet whisper.
Today, I am thankful for those rapids. Through them, I've found the more aware I become of my insufficiencies, my flaws, and my bend towards being human-the more vulnerable I become to intimacy with Jesus. I mean, He already knows me totally and completely, so as I know me more fully, I can only understand His grace and His love for me at a deeper level than before.
The chance He knows and loves us, although mind-blowing, isn't slim. Unlike the leaf falling into my cup, needing everything to align just right, God doesn't need you to align anything. He already did. Heck, He may have even caused that leaf to fall right into my cup this morning to trigger thoughts of His love towards us, so I could tell you that there's a hundred percent chance He knows you, and He loves you.
I love the words Sarah Reeves sings to her Heavenly Father. "You know me better than I know myself, Your ways are higher than anything else, You have the plan far beyond all my wildest dreams. Just like You paint the fiery skies, You chose the color of my eyes. From the start until the end of time, You're in the details."
Here's to enchanting autumn days, leaves in teacups, and the reminder that we are fully known and fully loved.
