My favorite times of this season have been the ones with my husband and I sitting at our table, or like last night, at the counter sitting on our bar stools, taking a piece of bread and a sip of wine and knowing full well that it is the gospel that has kept us not only together, but growing and moving forward.
We share together, giving thanks as we take this communion for the many ways that we have seen God’s hand in our week. I think of Ruth once more, in the many ways the author uses the language of things happening to allude to God’s plan, to God on the move, to God at work in the story.
Even when we don’t have the eyes to see it, God is always working. The scales that need to fall are many when it comes to observing how sweet the daily bread tastes, how gracious the simplicity of nourishment and provision.
Although this is short, I am finding this to be also quite sweet. In the middle of what has felt like a never-ending season, time is not wasted. He has spent a long couple of months pruning, molding, shaping, and slowly opening these two hands of mine in ways that I thought were beyond words painful. As I have prayed time and time again for God to move, He has in the hidden, in my darkness, even as I in my feeble humanity have said otherwise.
Things around us will be always and ever happening. With open hands, with gladness, let us run. Our God is at work.