The sky comes down to kiss the earth in Prescott
You can almost touch the clouds
The roar of prayer
The thunder of praise
The Word pours forth from the Preacher’s mouth
And wraps around the great tent, like a mighty wind, drawing you in.
The altar, arms wide open, beckons all
And the little sapling has grown into a young tree
She traverses mountains and reaches for stars
She has returned
Her heart and soul outshines the moon in the dark of night
She is a lesser light for the Greater Light, the Son
And her mama and her daddy smile
And Jesus smiles
“Come little one,” He says. “Let Me show you the great things I have planned for you.”
She was only five weeks old when we took her to the Prescott International Bible Conference in Arizona, a feisty bundle of fretful fury.
“Give her to me,” our friend Tony said, as he pried her from my arms. Peach skin and pink fluff pressed against an ebony cheek, his hand almost encompassing, as he paced at tent’s edge comforting her. A perfect picture.
She fussed as I held her at the door of the tent, trying to escape the steamy heat and catch some fresh air. Suddenly, a gust of wind lifted the tent roof draped and laden with rain from the night before, sending a torrent of water crashing down on us. Everyone startled and turned to see us standing soaking wet. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” others asked as I caught my breath and started laughing. Abby cooed contentedly, looking up in wonder at tent and sky. We stayed in our wet clothes and she fell asleep as I settled into a seat and drank in the preaching.
The nursery workers and family dubbed her Abby-wail and Crabby Abby. I used to call her my little porcupine- cute but deadly. She had a hedgehog for a pet for awhile. Sometimes they were a lot alike. I call her my beloved Frizz Head. Along the way there’s been potholes on mountain roads before we hit some open highway. She’s seventeen now. It’s not always easy living with a firecracker whose head is in the clouds, one who rooms with chaos and whose middle names are Last Minute and I Forgot. But I love her. I love her zeal, her heart for God and people. I admire her resilient spirit, her spunk, how she chases adventure and reaches for stars. She’s a Believer.
“I miss Sandy and Mr. C,” Abby said of my friends, mentors, other mother and father. Sandy was in my wedding and present when our children were born. They helped me learn to walk when I was a babe in Christ and always lit the way with Light and love. They’ve been there for my children too. I’m thankful for them and for the fellowship of churches we are a part of, whose faithful preaching of the Gospel is able to lead to Christ, and to sustain and inspire us from generation to generation.
“Who was that?” Abby said.
“It was Sandy. She called to say you’re going to have jet lag as you’re flying into Tuscon at almost midnight, and they’re taking you to Prescott Bible Conference. They’re leaving at 5 a.m.”
“Yessss!” She said.
Full circle. “Thy will, Lord. Amen.” 🙂
© 2017 Rachael M Colby Tattoo It On Your Heart