Light Vessel


Photo Credit: Plutla

Unusually, it’s rained on the Island three days in a row. Sympathetically, I’ve been crying for three days straight:

First, at the fountain as the Flags of Nations flapped in a nighttime breeze and Hailee described her growth in the last month. My heart, twisted with deep loneliness, finally released in the presence of an old friend’s faith;

on my knees in the Prayer Room, as memories of the last fews years pulsed through my vision alongside the beat of the drums through my chest, on the current of lyrics–Now that I’ve tasted, now that I’ve seen, I’m never going back…I just want to be where you are, I just want to be near your heart;

yesterday, standing on the edge of the jetty as the waves burst upon the rock, drenching my church clothes, and he asked me, If you don’t have a place to sleep tonight, or food to fill your stomach, is my love enough? Oh, Father, you know I would sleep right here on the rocks if I had to, just don’t withhold your life from me;

beneath the kind words of a 21-year-old girl in midwifery school, who, upon hearing that I had no means of transportation but needed to be in Captain Cook the next day, said, “I have a car. I will take you.”
She prayed Hosea 2 over me, repeating the words of the Spirit: I will take her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her, I will make Trouble Valley a door of hope. Then once again she will call me her husband; I will make her my wife, I will be true and faithful, and show her constant love and mercy, and make her mine forever, and took my face in her hands, saying, “What Jesus has for you is better.”

this morning, in the Ohana Center, because a lady had just prayed over me, without knowing me, that I have the heart and courage to trek an uncharted map of Hawaii, because I walk in light and my Father will provide everything I need.
Overwhelmed, I knelt and entered the home he and I built on a Canadian island, where we skipped rocks on the placid waters of my soul and mourned my lost dreams, wept for love in preparation to disembark on the sailboat for uncharted waters.
You are a vessel of my light, he whispered. The life you gave up to follow me is a lesser light, a dim comparison to the glory I am calling you into. 
Afterward, the lady who saw my destiny came back with money for me, saying not to worry about finances, but to bring light to Captain Cook.

It’s rained three days straight on the Island, but the sun is beginning to penetrate the clouds with an insistent light.


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