The Mist

Majesty, one of the many names we use to describe our Creator. Of course no word we conjure up could adequately describe His glory.

 I sat watching the mist off Cherokee Lake as it rose upward to meet the clouds. Clouds, the very created things of God, that He Himself says He hides behind. 

Was the mist aware of this profound secret? Did it rise early to be swept back up to its creator? Was its desire to be engulfed by His presence and to share, if only briefly, His embrace?

Oh that I could be that mist. How I long to be swept up in God's presence.  To have my mind and body transformed back to Spirit form so it can be absorbed into the hands of Yehovah.

There’s a small island in my view out the window, the mountains strategically placed as its border. At times I have felt like that Island. Yearly navigating my way back to the place my soul calls home. The mountains, the place of my serenity. The place my creative juices flow. The place that seems to whisper my name in a knowing way that allows me to feel one with its stature.

Then slowly the sun rises from the cleft of the mountains. The large ball of fire that causes the sky to become a symphony of color. As it rises to take its place the whole earth seems to respond. Birds of every kind begin to cry out in praise! The waters of the lake itself begin to ripple as the creatures below dance before Elohim. GLORIOUS….

A fresh breath of the Holy Spirit is offered. An unadulterated opportunity has presented itself from the King.

I pray I won’t miss one visual sign of His beauty, not one small sound of His voice, not one occasion to be an incense of pleasure to the Maker of  the mist.

Written by Gena Capanna

10~9~22