Come Away to A Quiet Place…

There is a picture that hangs in my creative space of our home.

I purchased it last Spring because it reminds me of the “safe place” I got when I meet with God. My “safe place” is a farm house set in a valley harvest field of wheat. The house is old and being restored, it has a large wrap around front porch with clapboard siding.

Rocking chairs grace the front porch and I am not allowed to go inside yet because God has been restoring my house. I love that picture. I love the warmth – the sun always shines there and the breeze always blows. On my second or third visit God the Father planted a host of flowers all around the house for me, and Jesus showed me around behind the house. A garden oasis waited with refreshing water and a cool, inviting atmosphere. I’ve seen the inside of the house when Jesus opened the door and gave me a peek inside. I felt joy in my heart knowing He is doing a special work in my life through this place. I often think… I honestly believe when I get to Heaven this will be my “room” in the Mansion Kingdom.

Jesus and I play on the porch – we play jacks and dance, oh how we dance. Sometimes He comes in a prince’s royal uniform and other times he comes in a t-shirt and jeans. He always come as Jesus though. He meets me near the edge of the field each time and walks with me.

Today I’m going to share a journal entry from one of my “safe place” visits:

January 29, 2012

I stepped off the gravel path into Daddy’s wheat field. The tall golden stalks of wheat brushed against my thighs as I met my King among the harvest. 

He stood a few paces ahead of me as the ripening grain swayed lazily in the breeze. The breeze invited me toward Him by gently caressing my skin and blowing the chestnut tendrils of hair away from my neck. I could hear Him whispering, “Come away, Beloved. Come away with Me.” 

As I stepped closer, the dark curls on the back of His head swung away to reveal His fire filled eyes and welcoming smile. My heart fluttered a bit as I smiled back and lifted my hand to wave hello! 

He smiled and nodded pointing eastward toward the horizon where a safe barrier of mountains hemmed us in. His large, scarred hand reached for me just as I came to His side. 

In that moment the sun grew brighter and the breeze blew stronger nudging us out into the harvest field. 

“How are you, Michelle?” 

“I’m tired and a bit confused.” 

We continued walking east toward the white farm house set in the midst of the harvest, still a good distance away. Even though I had come here many times, Jesus always met me and led me to our secret place. 

“Tell me about that sweet girl.” 

“Well, there is a restlessness in my heart, Lord. I feel like what I am doing now is wearing me down. I guess I don’t understand why I am still here. Can You help me with that?”

He smiled and warmth filled every inch of my being. The wheat stalks bent to make room for our gait drawing us ever closer to our special place. He squeezed my hand and pulled me close to His side. “You’re here because I’m preparing you for the harvest, Michelle.” 

“Am I safe?” I asked. “It doesn’t feel safe and well it drains all my energy to stay here.” 

“So why do you stay?” He asked. 

“Because You haven’t told me I could go.” 

He squeezed my hand again and peace overwhelmed my heart. “You’re right, I haven’t.” 

I looked toward the ground and the white linen skirt that hid my bare feet as I took each step. 

“Will it be soon?” 

“IT IS TIME.” 

“Time?” My heart picked up a beat or two at the sound of His Words.

“Yes. The birth pains are about to begin, but remember when your children were born?”

“Oh, Yes!” The memory of those three sweet days brought a giggle up into my throat. “Those days were three of my best days.” 

“I know. You were frightened the first time, though. You didn’t know what to expect and , well, Justin was overdue.” 

“I remember. He was stubborn even then.”

“So were you.” The words hung there in the air between us for a moment, but the usual shame and guilt I would have felt over them in my past did not follow. He squeezed my hand again. 

“I know. I was rebellious, too.” 

“Obviously!” He smiled once more and shook His head. “I’m glad that is behind you now.” 

“Thank You.” I saw the house growing nearer but wanted to know more. “What about that? “

“The labor was easy for you. This season will be an easy labor and it’s time for this season to begin.” 

I pulled at His hand and stopped. Tears began to cloud my view as I let His words settle in my heart. He turned toward me, His eyes beckoning me. “My heart is divided, Lord. I cannot have my heart set on two things.” 

He stepped back, pulled me up under His strong, protective arm and whispered as He kissed my forehead. “I know.”

I shuffled the last few steps there nestled beneath His arm. We took our time through the yard around the house. He smelled of Heaven, all soft and warm, like the wind and sunshine that beckoned us in. I could feel His heart beating against my arm. Safe. 

My bare toes tapped quickly up the wooden steps and paused at the top. Something felt different. I looked down at the usually rough, weathered floor boards. They were painted a crisp, clean white. 

I squealed in delight. Each time I visit the secret place, Daddy always surprises me with the work He has completed. 

Jesus laughed with me. “Do you love it?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! It’s beautiful.” 

“Shall we?” He struck a formal pose and extended His arm to me. Soft music lilted off the breeze as I folded myself into His arms and we danced across the gleaming white boards. We twirled and danced all around. Our feet beating out a rhythm of unconditional love. 

My heart felt such joy, it felt like light and energy running through my veins. The more we danced, the more joy came up. We danced and danced until I crumpled in a giggling heap upon the porch. 

Overwhelmed. 

            By Love. 

Overwhelmed. 

             By Joy. 

Overwhelmed. 

             And Giddy. 

In the Presence of My Lord and King. 

I lay out on the porch and felt my breathing begin to ease as I rested there. Then I heard Daddy’s voice. “Baby girl, come here.” 

I pulled myself up off the floor and walked to Daddy’s rocking chair. His large, canvas covered arms welcomed me into His lap. I nestled myself up against His chest and felt peace flood my soul as I rested there in Daddy’s arms close to His heart. 

“My child, you are My daughter, My beautiful blessed child. I created you and am positioning you for greatness and vast influence. Your artwork is not your identity – your artwork expresses your identity. I made you creative – beautifully engaged with color and splendid things. I’ve given you words and humor and connectedness. 

“BE. THAT. GIRL. Beloved, and you will never be disappointed.”

I sat with Daddy as He rocked me there on the whitewashed porch of our farm house until I fell asleep.


 

3 thoughts on “Come Away to A Quiet Place…

  1. Wow Michelle! Shakespeare has a lot to learn from you… This post was beautiful, poetic, and homely. I particularly loved the part, “Your artwork is not your identity – your artwork expresses your identity.” Quite a lovely truth this is.

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