Honeysuckles waft their perfume in the sticky air.
I am going to make myself a tiara of honeysuckles one day. I will don it proudly and walk bare foot through a field, letting the sun kiss my skin and the breeze tousle my hair.
In my Abba Fathers earth, I feel far less than the princess he says I am. In moments of complete surrender, he reminds me of my position. It’s easiest to surrender in solemn moments of olfactory overload. Sitting inside this room, if I close my eyes, I can find myself in the dream . . .
In a familiar song, the words “my hands are strong, but my knees are far to weak” stick out like a sore thumb. Yes, my hands are strong – they work, they hold, they comfort,they discipline, they dig in cool earth, they raise in praise, they hold onto the Fathers hands for dear life . . .
But my knees are far too weak to stand. I fall onto them, the sheer weight of life weighing me down. My hands, gripping onto the nail scarred hands of my savior, lose no strength. Can he bear my weight?
The sweet scent of yellow and white trumpeting honeysuckles awaken me out of my inner questioning.
I am HIS princess.
I will lay my crown at his feet, even if it is one of wildflowers. My soul will rejoice in him and in him alone. My knees will always be weak in his presence. My hands will always be strong when they hold his.
“. . . Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.
The woman to be admired and praised
is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.” ( Proverbs 31:30 The Message )