Dew

As I sit here and sip my coffee and eat my small fried cake of sweetened dough (a doughnut), I look outside and study my surroundings. I see the trees stretching to grasp the light that softly shines down on them as it makes its way to the top of the sky, only to, eventually, sink back down… I see the shadows of limbs and leaves dance across the freshly cut grass… I see twinkles of dew drops sparkle and shine, as glimpses of the morning sun hit them and bring my eye's attention to their existence… Dew. How I love dew. I don't know why, but there is something about it that makes me just wonder at the love of the Creator… It falls in the night and comes to a resting place on the ground below, coating the earth with a heavy blanket of moisture, reviving and restoring the thirsty crust and all that grows out of it's dust. It's the call, the beaconing of a new day, a new adventure, a new moment where I can keep existing and breathing the air that I let fill my lungs and bring me to the life that waits to be lived.
Dew. It reminds me, somehow, of the moment when I began to fall in love with Jesus, of the moment when he picked up my broken heart, and he held it in His hands. It brings me back to that moment where He looked at me with His eyes and He took my heart and He kissed it… and suddenly, I was whole. Revived. Restored. My heart was whole like it had never been broken.
Fragile and frail is the human heart. Broken by a single word, wounded by a mere thought, hardly holding itself together… Yet He died for mine and for yours. His blood spilling from His beaten and battered body, He died thinking of the love that would come from my weak and unworthy heart. He died willingly, and rose faithfully that He might have that love forever. Like dew, His spirit rests on me each morning, beaconing my soul to awake and to love. To rise up and love the love that first loved me.