Early morning meditation

The words still my eyes.  This is where the Father wants His daughter to begin her early morning meditation.

 "The sin of Judah is written down with an iron stylus; with a diamond point it is engraved upon the tablet of their heart And on the horns of their altars, as they remember their children, so they remember their altars and their Asherim.  By green trees on the high hills.  O mountain of Mine in the countryside, I will give over your wealth and all your treasures for booty, your high places for sin throughout your borders.  And you will, even of yourself, let go of your inheritance that I will give you;  And I will make you serve your enemies In the land which you do not know; for you have kindled a fire in My anger which will burn forever." ~ Jeremiah 17: 1-4

"What does this mean concerning me?"  I asked my Father.



I read on.  I'm stilled.

"Thus says the Lord, 'Cursed is the man who trusts in mankind and makes flesh his strength, and whose heart turns away from the Lord."

I know this warning.  It's a familiar one to my heart.  One that seems to flash the yellow lights of caution whenever I begin to deal with this particular person.  Ah child with fading memory remembers. 
The Father grabs His daughter hand and gently leads her back to where she is to be.  Heart turned toward Him.  Feet with roots standing firm.  Planted.  Immovable feet.  God reminds me before I err.

The movie reel rewinds...slowly.  On the wall as I look up I see, 'cause He shows me how caught up I was becoming in a situation that isn't mine to get caught up in.  The mind was planning.  Orchestrating how each string of events were to be played.  And there was no need for the other to worry...  I would be there.  "I would be there."  Me.

Isn't that what God's children do?  We help.  We help our fellow man in need, correct?

The Father has me look to the wall again, and watch the plays that have been played between the lives of the one who seeks help and the one who, once again, runs to aide.  "I shake the head, not wanting to believe what is there, right there in front of me."  Folly is littered through and through.  I look close to see the imprints.  Finger prints are everywhere.  They reveal the truth that is so hard to accept.  "No, no."  The head shakes again, not wanting to believe the fingerprints of the evidence.  The evidence reveals that not only has the loved one been in folly, but its folly of their own making.  So harsh is the truth.



My heart grieves.  Their deceitful heart has been fully shown, yet again.

I desperately want to help.  So bad.  Make things better.
Heart tells me ... reason just a little bit more.  Understand just a tad deeper.  Love just a little harder.

Father says, "No.  Sometimes the only redemption that is allowed is through "tough love."  The seemingly turning of the back on the one you love the most."

So I decide while having my early morning meditation to turn away ... not help.  Though I am helping.  Didn't God turn His back on Jesus to help us.  Sometimes the only way for redemption is to turn away.  The turning away is the love.



My heart aches, eyes fill with water.  The water begins a slow and steady flow, for I know what I must do.  I have to forsake the one I love in order to give life.  I must believe that the resurrection will happen after the turning away ... leaving them to die on their own cross.  This is what discernment tells the broken heart.  "I have to let go."  It hurts.  I'm scared, but I must. 

This is what He shows me in my early morning devotions, and I'm reminded about turning the ugly into beauty.  The ugly-beautiful.  The hard eucharisteo.  I smile and I give thanks for the revealing.  The memory.  I give thanks for the grace.  It is true what the Farmer's wife says, "All is grace."

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