They say if you put your ear to a train track, you'll feel it's train-resonance long before steel hits steel in front of you.
Since I woke up this morning, my ear has been bent to the train track, and I feel a resonance--a surety far off, the quickening clack that keeps my shoulders in tension and my eyes scanning my surroundings for a change.
I can't speak what it is yet--all I have is the resonance. But intuitively, I know it's not nervousness or dread or anything to fear at all. It's a good alertness.
I think God wants to say something today. This Monday is wholly Novembery-Michigan--all sad wet spots and a hung-over grey--but today I distinctly feel God moving underneath it too, among us. I shiver at the spiritual-tremor I feel...and wait, listening.
Since I woke up this morning, my ear has been bent to the train track, and I feel a resonance--a surety far off, the quickening clack that keeps my shoulders in tension and my eyes scanning my surroundings for a change.
I can't speak what it is yet--all I have is the resonance. But intuitively, I know it's not nervousness or dread or anything to fear at all. It's a good alertness.
I think God wants to say something today. This Monday is wholly Novembery-Michigan--all sad wet spots and a hung-over grey--but today I distinctly feel God moving underneath it too, among us. I shiver at the spiritual-tremor I feel...and wait, listening.
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