I remember things more clearly, the more I study the Word. I remember the prayers I prayed and what I trusted Him for. I may not have always done exactly the right thing. I tried so hard in my own strength, but I could not be that super strong woman of faith. So I drew on the strong women I knew, sometimes from a movie, then I was harder, keeping the facade of not being myself was not giving me peace, and I went a long time without crying. Something that is a necessity at times just to keep your sanity, to release your heart to Jesus. Yes, Jesus loves me. I am weak but He is strong.
A whisper of grace from a children’s song. A poem I wrote long ago, that was prophetic in my life and I did n’t even know it. A whisper of His grace. I see the sky dark with clouds in the afternoon Georgia heat, I lean against the car and take in the gentle breeze. A whisper of grace.
After years of fears, now tears, dicouragement and sorrow. I now He was there working for me if I could rest in Him. A whisper of grace. Love shouldn’t be a struggle, it was freely given and freely received. Did I not receive for falling into an old trap of the enemy, looking to myself to see what I was doing wrong? Like Job’s friends, I believed someone else view of me instead of how I viewed myself and even that was not as rich as His mercy and grace.
Two yellow butterflies play together freely outside the window. A whisper of grace. A song of praise gets stuck in my head. A whisper of grace. A good long nap even after a full night’s sleep. A whisper of grace. Just turning down the light to shadows, quiet settling in the house. A whisper of grace.
A good memory, a prayer I whispered, my heart’s deepest desires. He remembers. It’s a whisper of His grace. He constantly whispers into the chaos and confusion of our lives because He promises peace, He is the author of peace. He penned for me a life of joy and peace, and it’s an eternal one. Now, that I’ve stopped running to keep up, stopped chasing dreams that were already my reality. Now that I rest in the love of Jesus, and the whispers of His grace. Can you hear them? Rest….. The buterflies are back. He whispers grace. Rebecca Jones