Yesterday was my most difficult day since the beginning, at least in terms of denying myself. I wanted a freakin' cup of COFFEE! I also wanted something substantial to eat, I wanted flavors and textures that you don't enjoy with fruits and vegetables and water. Maybe as the end of this fast comes into view, I am like the hare who thinks the race is won and so wants to stop and take a rest along the side of the road. Hang on, baby; we're not there yet.
Yesterday, I wrote about prayer as dancing with God, and with the world around me. This morning during my quiet time I had the image of my desire as a tightly closed bud. As I pray, it begins to round out and puff up and I think, "Oh, I hope it's a rose!"
I continue praying and over time, as the bud cracks open, I can't see what kind of a flower it is, but I know it is pink. The outcome is coming into view. I keep praying, and pretty soon the petals begin to unfurl and the blossom takes shape and maybe I can tell it's not a rose as I'd wanted but I'm not really disappointed because I know it is mine.
And I keep praying until the fulfillment of it comes to pass, as the flower spreads itself open in all its glory. I can see that it is a carnation, or a lily, or an iris, but no matter what it is, I come to see and understand its beauty and its perfection, as I pray.
The prayer is the dance with God and the answer is the flower He gives you when the dance is done.
And maybe God gave us dancing and flowers to help us know Him.