Reaching

We are all reaching for something. We reach for the next lowest number on the scale. We buy the new formula for beauty. We strive towards success. We outpace time hoping for rest. We reach for hearts hoping for love. And we wonder where we can reach to find peace.

I put a plant on the table to bring a bit of summer into my house.   But the little bit of something had big plans. It reached. It saw the sun and it went for it, stretching beyond what its girth seemed to have capacity for and flowering just to add a bit of glory to its already extraordinary path.

This is us.

Pulled like taffy, we feel thin and worn and tired. But in the hands of an almighty God who does all things incredibly well, we too can be a thing of beauty. Our weary is His invitation and our wore out is His place of wonder.

I am convinced He lets us get here. This place where we are at the end of ourselves. Our posture shifts to looking up instead of pushing or pulling.

He is the gap filler. He drenches when we are drained. He imagines when we cannot see. And He infuses beauty when we have adopted ugly as our middle name. I forget it is not just getting through; it is finding Him. It is reaching for righteous.