"I can feel the wind
Before it hits my skin..."
Alive Again, Matt Maher

There have been times, and they seem to be more fleeting and less numerous these recent days, when I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has given me a glimpse of heaven. Just a thimble-full here of what the Son's light must feel like on the back of my neck; just a crumb there of what the streets of gold have to feel like beneath my bare feet. Rather than make me long for more of this earth it always produces a desire in me for this life, and its wearying work, to end. Those are the times when I want to extend my old, wrinkled, worn out hands far over my head and grab onto the hands of the one that will take me to where He, most completely, is. I wouldn't care if that hand were bony, or steel, or sharp. Any discomfort or pain would be swallowed up in the wind that would caress my skin and tussle my hair.

Thanks be to God that, at times, I can feel that wind now. Sometimes it is the coolness of a Summer evening. Sometimes it is from the South on a February evening as I push the snow off of the driveway and onto the retreating pile in my neighbor's yard. He knows when it blows and He knows when it should blow for me.

Not a minute, Lord. Not a minute where You are - just a moment is all I ask for. Not a feast, just a crumb meant for the dogs is all I deserve. Not a word, just a whisper of a syllable of what You'll speak to me when the race is over. When can I rest? How long until I can take a drink?


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