Today, day 10, the letter is J; the words are JOURNEY and JOY.
Just about 10 years ago, and at just about this time of the year, I was disgruntled AGAIN with organized religion, with "church", and I was praying and asking Abba Father, "What do I do?" And I had a vision--I'm going to risk calling it exactly what it was, a vision. The skies didn't part, but I saw this picture in my mind's eye as clearly as it's posted on this page. I saw little Hurricane Hattie leaving a huge city made of sand, she turned and pulled the bar down across the door, locking the huge wooden gate, then turned back again toward the desert to "wait". She had her little hat on, and her little red coat, and her bag was on the ground near her. Back then, it was a suitcase, but today, I know it was her art bag--her tool bag for prayer. I hadn't done any visual arts for over 15 years, and it was probably another 3 years or so before I would begin painting again, but I know now that Hattie had an art bag full of tools near her.
And I heard with the ears of my heart, "Wait for me; I'll come get you." I knew it was my Abba Father speaking to me. Must confess, my heart lurched just a little because my daddy told me that once, and he was two hours late. He was to have picked up our carpool after school, but didn't show up until nearly 5:00. And it was a horribly rainy, stormy day. There was no one left at the school except me and my two riding buddies, and it was open hallways, and we were afraid of the storm--and I was horribly embarrassed because my daddy had forgotten. As it was, he had been witnessing to someone. And a little girl can't get mad at her daddy for leaving her and her friends in a storm when he kept someone from going to hell...she just can't. But she can learn not to trust her Abba Father to show up on time.
So, when I heard, "Wait for me; I'll come get you," I knew it was much, much more than just a statement from God, then I heard, "And I promise, I won't be late."
Shortly after, I left the Baptist church and my evangelical world for the last time. I quit going to church, and I gave up hope of finding anything that fit.
But Abba came for me, in 2002, and He led me into the Catholic world. I thought it would be the Roman Catholic Church, but in 2006, even my priest knew that I wasn't really Roman Catholic--that I was "more Franciscan" in my thoughts, more "universal". I knew it too, and left the Catholic Church in 2007. Had it been a mistake?
Then, last year, Abba took me by the hand again and led me and my Mother "home" to the Episcopal Church. And they have welcomed me warmly--me and my art bag. I've found "home" politically, socially, morally, religiously, creatively, and (I think) this time, completely.
By the way, one of the first women I met there is named JOY! I took that as a prophetic word for me. I've been welcomed by JOY, and everytime I can, I get a hug from JOY. She hasn't a clue, but she's part of my vision, too.
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