I’d opened my dusty blinds so that I could look up from my desk to watch the snow. I sensed God tugging on my heart for a moment of worship, but I never quite made it there. He was beckoning spectators, and normally such a rare moment as snow falling in North Texas would draw deep appreciation from me. The wonder of the snowflakes became quickly lost to the dust bunnies breeding on my side of the glass.
Exasperated by the whole mess of dirt and clutter I had inherited with my new office, I sat down at my desk and began sorting through my tasks for the day. While God waited patiently…I continued to make a morning of counting dust bunnies and minor annoyances.
An incoming email caught my attention. It began with a beautiful narrative of the winter scene outside the writer’s window. The descriptive words caused my heart to ache. I had missed my designated appointment that morning; the appointment where God plans something lovely that thrills my heart, and I respond with abject adoration. He had knocked on my window too, but I had chosen to rebuke the dust bunnies rather than meet Him on the other side of the glass.
As I read the wonderful description from someone who had kept their own appointment that morning, I wondered what else I had missed in that moment of intimacy with God that I’d opted out of.
I looked toward the window, only to find that the snow had turned to rain and the morning that should have been marked with the fingerprints of God, was now an average, drizzly, gray winter day. The moment had passed.
Today I was determined to conquer my issues. As I furiously attacked the layers of dust, the piles of neglected filing and the overall grime and clutter that had been left to me, I had an honest conversation with God—I apologized for intentionally choosing the dirt rather than the blessing.
As the dust bunnies died in my hands, I came to a better conclusion; it wasn’t them that needed to die, so much as it was the part of me that gave them a place of importance. They are after all, only dust. He on the other hand—He places stars in the heavens, and sets the universe into divine and intricate order. He had beckoned me to the window that morning and I had refused to meet Him there. The dust was merely a convenient excuse for turning away—again.
It’s very easy to dismiss those subtle wooing moments when God Himself invites us to come close. We can always push them aside, choosing our own perspective over His. I could have conquered the immediate distraction by raising the blinds—if I had I might have experienced the same moment of awe and wonder that was described to me. Instead, I was accusing dust bunnies of ruining my day.
God wasn’t willing to give up on me, however. When I refused to come to the glass, He inspired someone to tap on my inbox. He was going to continue woo me until I had no other choice but to join Him.
Two hours of hard cleaning today, gave me ample time to consider my ways. My rebellion gave way to repentance as I removed the last speck of dust and raised the blinds hoping for a warming ray of sunlight. What met my gaze was more than I could have hoped for.
The air outside my window was pregnant with the effusion of God’s artistry. Each flake perfectly formed, moved gracefully through the atmosphere; captive to the rhythm of the gentle winter wind. There was no turning back from this moment. I donned my gloves and joined the canvas—there, beneath the boughs adorned in icy winter lace, we danced at last.
Birdie, This is lovely--so inspiring and beautifully written. I'm glad it was on the front page. It is such a good reminder of the importance of choosing the holy over the mundane. Then I like how you combined the two. I've had my quiet time...now I'm off for the dust bunnies. It's good to know that I can talk to God while I eradicate them.
You would have enjoyed our women's retreat this weekend ("Come Apart before ye 'come apart!'"). I find answers to some of our discussion-group questions in your writing.
I so appreciate your reminder that God has joy in His presence that we do not want to miss, just because of the tyrany of what passes for the urgent. Dust indeed! It will still be there, later, so we don't have to worry about missing IT!