There was a power outage one night in Kothe, something that happens semi-regularly in Nepal (and on the race in general). Our electronics quickly died, and we fumbled for our headlamps and lit candles so that we could prepare for bed (early) and try to avoid things that go bump in the night. We prayed that the power would return, and few times the light flickered like a joke on a quick tongue. As we laughed in the candle light, I paused with thanks and smiled and felt like Papa was smiling too. I stopped asking for the power to come back. It was a holy inconvenience. Before heading to my tent in my room (you have to be especially cautious when you live in a country that has spiders with radioactive urine), I stopped. I glanced heavenward and was taken in by the night's brilliance. I grabbed a chair, turned off my headlamp, and just gazed at the heavens and began to talk to God. Sometimes looking at the starry night sky is like looking at Holy Spirit. You struggle to take it all in. You look past the space directly in front of you for something more. You lean back, eyes widening, twisting and turning for different angles, and sometimes you even crane your neck a bit. It seems too big to take in, even uncomfortable to try… but then you find the sweet spot for the moment. And you rest in perfect awe. Your perspective is widened and narrowed at once, as it must to conceive of a God so very big and so very intimate and intentional with one so very small. That night, I sat, happily craning and worshipping. I fell asleep in awe and awoke still in awe. This is what I was made for. Sometimes I wish my eyes were bigger or my sought-after view smaller… but that was not the design. And truly, I'm thankful. I don't want easy. I want incredible. I don't have to have all the answers, just this ever widening and narrowing perspective, craning at times, and resting in the promise that Holy Spirit will lead me into all truth. Thank You, Papa.
Author: Ada Grantham | | by archiveworldraceblogs
