After a lovely dinner with Mr. Fantastic, I stand in the bookstore in front of the magazines. There seem to be thousands of them.
Celebrity scoops, fashionable digs, healthy attitudes, advice on life unending.
Most of these are monthly subscriptions.
Next month there will be a whole new army of ideas, thoughts, and photos to process.
But I can’t even process the information I have already been given.
This is why I can’t do Pinterest. If you follow my pin boards, allow me to apologize for my boring non-existence presence. A pre-Pinterest binder at home houses ideas from two years ago I have yet to see through to completion. Pinning more weight on my shoulders would press me into the ground so far I would never dig myself out.
Like a newborn who has been awake too long, with too many strange faces smiling and cooing at me, I am overwhelmed and screaming inside.
Someone stop this ride and let me off.
With all these voices selling me products, recommending recipes, suggesting ways to improve my house, my family, my health, my life, I need One Voice to rise above the rest.
Here I am reading these familiar words once more. Maybe this Isaiah verse is mine, now, I have read it so many times. Perhaps it is written for me, to me, a letter of from Him.
“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,
who choose what pleases me
and hold fast to my covenant—
to them I will give within my temple and its walls
a memorial and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that will endure forever.
And foreigners who bind themselves to the Lord
to minister to him,
to love the name of the Lord,
and to be his servants,
all who keep the Sabbath without desecrating it
and who hold fast to my covenant—
these I will bring to my holy mountain
and give them joy in my house of prayer.
Their burnt offerings and sacrifices
will be accepted on my altar;
for my house will be called
a house of prayer for all nations.”
My heart finds joyful peace again.
Obey His lovely Sabbath law. Hold fast His covenant and promises. Push out the reverberating cultural noise and hear His still small voice calling for rest.
Mr. Fantastic walks up beside me as I gaze on magazines.
“Whatcha looking at?” he asks.
“So much information. Too much for me tonight, really,” I reply.
We turn, hold hands and walk on.
When I am done understanding what I have already been taught, when I have completed the tasks I have already begun, maybe I will come back. But in my heart, I suspect it will take me a while to finish what I began so many years ago, to bind myself to the Lord and to minister to him, to love His name and be his servant.
So we walk on.
