Hi everyone! Divine Appointments…will be live and published this month! Uploading to Amazon as eBook/Kindleand paperback has begun and both will soon available. I cannot wait for you all to get book #2 in your hands!
Thank you so much for the continued support – it is much appreciated and so very valuable to self-published authors.
Cheers!
The heat of the day is waning. A light breeze picks up in the late afternoon; its drowsy fingers shushing and weaving through the grasses, trees, and flowers. To the West, the sun begins its descent. It defiantly streaks and stains the blue of the sky with bright oranges and hues of pink as it gives way to the rising half-moon.
One can feel nature slow, sigh and release the energy of day into the quiet mystery of night. Birds make one last flight through the garden, snipping up gnats and other nighttime insects. They light on the bird baths for their last bath and sip of the evening before heading to their nests to cozy down. Safe and snug they await dawn to begin again their songs, flights and feeding.
As the moon rises higher in the darkening sky it is joined by planets and pinprick stars. Some are still quite faint as they wait their turn to burn bright in the night sky when the sun’s afterglow is finished.
As darkness deepens, night-dwellers emerge and begin rustling and creeping through the bushes and grasses, as their time to rise and go about their business has arrived. In the cover of darkness all may seem still and at rest, but it’s not. The business of nighttime is full, robust, and busy. Tiny garden mice gather and feast on the seeds the raucous birds have scattered in their feeding throughout the day. Their nests are deep underneath the stately ferns and spreading Catmint, giving them excellent cover from the neighborhood cats that hunt and prowl. The cats are part of the night hunters as they stealthily slip between the Lavender, Guara and Sage spying and waiting for an unsuspecting meal.
Fully dark now, the symphony of crickets begins in earnest. It starts with one lone, chirping buzz and is joined by others who’ve been waiting for nightfall to begin their serenade. The crickets are soon accompanied by myriad tree frogs that inhabit the nearby marshy, open space. It becomes a stage for their croaking and singing. The songs are repetitive and peaceful, allowing the mind to disengage and just be.
Sailing above in a carpet of stars, planets and zig zagging satellites, the half-moon is bright, cold, and austere. The simplicity of the light and the cold shine of the moonglow quiets and soothes, gentling away the worries and stress of the day. Deep and peaceful.
Nighttime brings with it a sense of mystery and supernatural portent. Sight cannot be relied upon in the dark. Other senses move to the forefront and must decipher the unseen sounds and goings-on of the night. Discernment is heightened – the soul is what sees and hears.
You are there in the nighttime rustle of the tall grasses as Your voice whispers in the breeze – rest and peace are near. You cause the stars to sing their cold melodies as they shine down, the puzzle pieces of their scattering giving direction to the traveler and hope for the lost. Your breath is in the rustling, swooping feathers, and haunting sound of the owl’s call, as it glides unseen through the dark, cool night. You are always near, the Maestro conducting and guiding all of creation in the symphony of life. There is nowhere I can go, where You are not.
Your masterpiece of creation in the still, yet busy nighttime is just as lovely, complex, and healing as in the light of day. There is deep healing, peace, and safety in the dark. It requires us to see and hear with our souls and follow Your whispers and songs, as deep calls to deep and You call us into Your marvelous Light.
The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 1 Kings 19:11-12
This scripture in 1 Kings caught my attention this morning. If you are like me, you have spent time in your quest for Jesus looking for Him in the histrionic thrill and chaos of heavy emotions and adrenaline rushes at large events that were wild and maybe kind of crazy. I’ve sought Him there. I’ve done that.
Looking back I’m not convinced I found Jesus there. I’m speaking from my own experiences here. What I found was a frantic and human collective fear of missing Jesus. A desperate need to strive, do it right, be louder and better, and work hard enough to capture the Lord’s attention, to be seen. His attention. Doesn’t He tell us over and over that we already have it? Why the exhausting striving, competing and wild, chaotic seeking?
“Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.” Jeremiah 29:13
How often are we on that mountain top, in His presence, but completely miss Him because we are hyper- focused on the next thrill, emotional high, or event – the louder and wilder the better? We don’t recognize Him in the gentleness of a whisper, the puff of breeze that tosses flowers and musses our hair or the beauty and silence of a forested path.
Do we believe He cannot hear or notice us if we are not louder and more demonstrative than the next person? I wonder…
I’ve discovered that He absolutely can be found anywhere and everywhere and nothing limits or holds Him back. Can He be found in a raging storm? Yes, He can. Can He be found in corporate worship? Absolutely!
However, I believe that He is most often found in unobtrusive moments where the chaos of the world and humanity is quieted in our spirits. When our eyes and ears truly see and feel His presence blanketing us as gentleness, kindness, attention, and sovereignty. Where His love, healing, hope, and protection flows soothingly over, around, and about us as He listens attentively to our softest utterance, with or without words. Answering our whispered need with a deeply compassionate whisper that we recognize in the rustling of leaves, sighing of a breeze, a spectacular sunrise or perhaps in the mystery of deep calling to deep as He speaks to and cares for our souls.
Divine whispers have brought more healing to my wounded soul, body, and heart than I can count. All of the “holy chaos” I sought did nothing to mend, soothe, heal, and restore my broken places. The whispers of the One who sees me, knows me, and deeply loves me is what I seek…what is sought will be found. Peace and hope are right here waiting for you and for me. Look for Him gently, listen for His whispers.
Hi everyone,
I’m so excited to share that my 2nd book, Divine Appointments…, is getting so close to publication! It has been fully edited, cover design created, interior formatting and illustrations are almost complete, and book blurb written. I will be doing a cover and blurb reveal in the near future. I can’t wait for you all to see it!
It will be an eBook and paperback book, just like my first book, Divine Encounters… and will be available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble online, Walmart online, Thriftbooks and other online retailers as well as a few independent bookstores.
If you have yet to read Divine Encounters…please check it out and give it a read ~ there are blessings, encouragement, hope and lovely visuals just waiting to delight you. Here is the link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BBQ15NWM
I’d also like to invite you to join me on Facebook on my author page @MelissaGiomiauthor
Cheers and have a lovely weekend!
I collect coffee mugs. It makes me happy to open my cupboard, view all the mugs with the various pictures, words, and shapes, go with my gut feeling and choose a mug for my morning coffee. Perhaps it seems fanciful, but often the mug I choose directly correlates to my moods or what might be going on in life at the moment.
Over the last few weeks, the ones I’ve chosen reflect a combination of peace, calm, and strength. This morning I chose a simple, white mug with STRENGTH. on the front of it. Something about the quiet, simple words written in all capital letters with that final period at the end, just sang out to me. It isn’t fancy and eye catching. It is quiet yet firm, fierce, and unwavering – STRENGTH.
Strength is defined in so many ways. I find it fascinating the way this word is resonating, settling in, and making itself comfortable through circumstances, through a season of sifting and sorting of relationships, through life changes ebbing and flowing, and my relationship with Jesus.
We often imagine strength as something that needs heft – to be loud and obvious and it is in some ways. Physical strength is something I work on as I want to be strong as I navigate aging and continue doing the outdoorsy things that I love – hiking, camping, gardening. Isaiah 46:4 is such a kind and safe verse, assuring us that even when our physical strength does wane, we will be safe and secure. “I will be your God throughout your lifetime – until your hair is white with age. I made you and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you.”
I am blessed in my current season of life as a military mom to have found courageous women to connect with and befriend. These lovely women get it. They understand how hard, rewarding, pride-filled and terrifying this season is with the unknowns, sudden changes, interrupted plans, loneliness, fears, the times when our soldiers are silent – trusting that “no news is good news”, and believing that God has them in His hands. Witnessing the strength these women display daily gives me hope, happiness, strength, resilience, and a safe place. I am truly grateful for them and their friendship in this season. This is a strength that is silent and often unseen, but incredibly powerful. The Master Weaver knew all along that our paths would intersect at this season in our lives. He knew how much these connections and friendships would mean and the strength we would glean from each other, and this shared experience.
As life ebbs and flows and life seasons come and go, I find there is a quiet yet fierce strength in the letting go, in the setting of boundaries and sometimes in the loss of relationships that you were sure would last a lifetime. This strength is a tough one because it is born from pain, loss, rejection, and heartache. But, if we rest in the assurance that our Creator is acutely aware of every nuance of our lives and is weaving something beautiful from these changes, pain, and the lovely surprises He plants along the way, we will see that He is strengthening and preparing us for the next season.
There is another type of strength I’ve found as my journey with Jesus continues to evolve with the circumstances He’s allowed in my life. I am learning to embrace that I am unique and so are you. I commune and spend time with Him in the specific way He created me to do, and it infuses me with peace, strength, and joy. It may not look the same for you and that’s a wonderful thing. I have spent too much time putting myself in a religious box that isn’t meant for me and oftentimes feeling a check in my spirit that something is off-kilter – that I’m not being who God designed me to be.
There is a powerful strength in embracing the way you are created to have a personal relationship with Jesus. The feelings of safety, love, purpose, value, and compassion are beautiful and precious things. It isn’t our strength, but His, that will flow, bathe, and restore our tired and frazzled souls – strengthening us for the life path He is waiting for us to walk with Him. I hope we will let go, seek out and enjoy the journey. I think we will be surprised and delighted to see how much strength can be found in unexpected places. Divine whispers are all around just waiting for us to be strong in the silence and the waiting as we discover the beauty in the adventures ahead.
The weathered white wood of the simple spire comes into view as I crest the gentle hill.
The narrow dirt road leading to the country chapel is overgrown with tufts of sturdy grasses and haphazard rocks. It’s rutted and a bit uneven from so many years of weather, shoes and tires making their way to church.
The land around the chapel is wild and untamed. Nature has reclaimed this place and surrounded it with beauty, as if cradling the abandoned chapel in lovely colors and peace, so much peace. It feels protected and safe. The Creator is here.
Tall, wispy flowers and assorted meadow grasses bend and sway as a light breeze sighs through, bringing movement and faint whisperings of years gone by.
An old pine tree rises up just behind and to the right of the old chapel. The branches are thick and heavy with a few quirky curves to its old trunk. The old tree has seen and heard so much life, death, joy, and sorrow. The tattered remnants of a rope swing sway and shift with the breeze. Visions of ponytails sailing out behind the swinger with shrieks of joy as the swing takes its rider higher and higher! Freedom!
Looking up, I see leaves, sticks and a piece of bright red yarn entwined and fashioned into a sturdy nest settled into the crook of a branch. Humanity may have abandoned this country chapel, but nature still finds shelter and a home here.
Taking a seat on a weathered stone bench under the tree, I imagine these pine branches shading long tables of cold, homemade lemonade, tasty potluck dishes and desserts on a warm Sunday afternoon, as congregants share a meal and life together. If I listen closely, I hear muted laughter and the sharing of gossip and recipes passed down through the years. Those family recipes will make an appearance at every potluck gathering. Belonging.
Becoming more accustomed to the sounds of silence, I hear bird song and buzzing bugs along with the creak and groan of the old pine settling and shifting with the breeze and old age. A fluffy, grey squirrel spies on me as it chatters and flicks its tail. One could sit here all day letting the imagination and nostalgia go where they will…
I make my way to the offset wooden steps of the chapel that creak and shift under my feet. The wooden door’s paint is peeling, and the bottom has been gnawed and scratched by a creature seeking shelter.
Inside the chapel the hush and silence are palpable. High windows are covered in dust and streaks with a few broken and missing panes, but the light that streams in is lovely and warm – like an invitation to come and rest.
There are ten rows of off-kilter pews on each side of the chapel with a few missing or cracked in places. A tattered red-leather hymnal lies on the edge of one. Some of the pages have been nibbled off and perhaps taken as bedding for a small creature that found safety here.
As I move forward between the rows, I notice one pew has initials carved into the wood, KC was here. Another has a stick horse and flowers etched into it. Lorraine loves James is written in orange pen on the back of one with some little hearts surrounding the words. Life was lived here.
The altar is simple and pure on its raised-up flooring. It appears to be handmade and sturdy. It’s beautiful. Echoes of sermons, wedding vows and funeral memorials whisper and float on the still, dust-moted air. The chapel may be abandoned but it’s holy and alive with memories.
I sit for a bit in the front pew and allow the peace, mystery, and silence of this old chapel to speak and heal. It does. The supernatural is afoot. It can be felt in the slight shiver that pricks the back of the neck and dances along the spine. There is no room for fear here; it’s lovely, divine, and healing. Beautiful.
The light begins to shift as the day moves on and I head to the side door leading out to the left. It’s loose on the rusty hinges and makes a squeaking noise as I push it open and go out.
A lopsided picnic bench sits in the shade of an old, gnarled cherry tree. The legs hidden by the meadow grasses – the keepers of this place. Sitting in the shade, I take in the weathered boards, streaked windows and lonely cross that sits atop the small spire of this country chapel. I’m struck with the thought that the Father met with his beloved within those walls. He healed, loved, and wept with them. He rejoiced, danced, and comforted them. The sacred holiness of that still permeates and flits within those abandoned walls. But we mustn’t try to contain Him inside physical walls, exclusivity, strict rules, or joyless routine. No! He is found under the gnarled old tree where someone sat pouring out their deepest heart wounds and pain. He heard every word, healed, and exchanged the pain for joy and peace. He did this as the birds sang, wildflowers soothed with their beauty and the breeze took the prayers and cries tossing them up into His ever-open hands to receive, heal and restore. He isn’t tame, safe, or containable. His love is fierce, wild, joy-filled and all consuming. He can be found within the walls of a sweet country chapel, but just as often I find Him in the wild places with dancing wildflowers, leafy trees, creatures, and breathtaking beauty.
My time here is complete. So many lessons learned from the old and abandoned. This country chapel with its divine murmurs and lonely beauty spoke volumes to me as I sat in the memories, nostalgia and quiet. This old chapel and the nature that cradles and shelters it healed, comforted, and spoke to my soul in ways a spoken word never could. Divine whispers float and swirl all around us – may we have the ears to hear it and hearts to discern it.
Open space and room to breathe – some isolation really.
It’s calling out and my heart hears it – craving, simmering, and stirring.
A quiet place that will nurture, cradle, and hum the songs of nature, the songs of peace.
A lovely, forest-y, meadow path. Peace.
It takes a moment to shed the world as my feet take those first steps.
Social media vies for my attention hovering in the background. Did that recent post get likes or shares? A snarky comment or minimizing remarks? A book sale?
“Breathe,” whispers the spritely breeze.
“Look,” sing the serene trees.
“Just let it go,” shout the bright meadow flowers.
Squirrels and fussing birds dart and flit about their business. Purpose.
The pine-scent that soothes and calms permeates the slightly chilled air – breathe in and out deeply, and fully. Remember.
The silence of the forest and busyness of the meadow are a beautiful chaotic contrast – thrilling, healing and peaceful all at once. Lovely chaos that is joyful, primal, and ancient. Soothing and safe.
Senses are awakened from the hidden place where society often relegates them down to a murmur, a fleeting glimpse, perhaps a burden.
I belong to the elements where senses are welcomed and sights, sounds, scents, and textures are pure. I could be part meadow fairy or tree sprite…
This coming home lifts my spirits, as the tight-fisted clenching of muscles, mind and identity loosen and fall away.
The healing power of nature, the elements and life in the quiet places is spiritual, miraculous, and mysterious.
Divine whispers surround, swirl and permeate the soul, spirit, and heart bringing pure delight, unfettered joy, and such hope.
As I drink it in, scraping off the expectations, demands and “shoulds” that cling to my heart, I feel a melody pumping through my veins.
A release and crescendo beating in time to the songs of nature and the quiet places lovingly woven by the Creator.
Healing, belonging and peace flood in to fuel the song, seal in my mind’s eye and heart memory the wonder and serenity of this less traveled road to peace.
My heart singing to the rhythms of Creation.
Maybe it’s something we do as we grow older or perhaps it’s just me. In this second half of my life there’s an urgency, not full of panic and fear, but an urgency I feel thrumming in my mind, spirit, and body to fine tune, declutter and make a wide-open space for peace.
Those things that once consumed my thoughts, to-do lists, and vacation plans are beginning to fall by the wayside taking a back seat to peace. Vacations full of fast-paced and exciting adventures don’t hold the same attraction they once did. When I honestly name how I want to spend my time my thoughts drift to backroads and quiet places.
Exploring small towns at a slower pace with opportunities to see natural beauty, experience the quiet of a backroad, a hike, a cabin retreat in the forest, a day at a quiet beach, a picnic at the duck pond, sitting around a campfire, or exploring quaint downtown shops at a leisurely pace – this brings me joy and happiness. I want to seek out ways to saturate myself with peace in those backroads and quiet places. To be a “good” tired at the end of a day spent simmering in joy and peace, is what I crave.
In this season of life, I’m working on choosing myself as a priority; choosing who and what stays or goes. I don’t want to make space for unnecessary drama, strife, and people-pleasing. It will always be there demanding attention, and sometimes I will have to give it a bit, however I get to decide how long I will allow, if at all, these unwelcome things to take up time and become unhealthy distractions.
Perhaps the urgency can be described as longing for a gentleness that covers and quiets me soothing wounds and hurts, and loosening memories and frustrations so I can let them go. I hear it in the Whispers of the One who sees every bit of me; the One who knows every thought, intention and understands all the whys, even when I don’t. I want to trust that He has me and will handle those things that want to rob me of peace and a calm spirit. His whisper breaks the chains of lies shouting that boundaries are selfish and ungodly. I’m a priority to Him. I’m wrapped up in heavenly wings, songs, and delight. I can put down those things that steal life, gratitude, and peace. I’m invited to rest in Him as He opens up backroads and quiet places sprinkled and seasoned with His peace. “He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.” Psalm 18:19
To make holy; consecrated.
To me, the word hallowed evokes a mysterious and magical feeling. Visions swirl in my mind of sacred, lovely light, and silence – a sense of something in the atmosphere that crackles with divine prophesy. Holy ground, a place where angels and heavenly beings tread.
In my limited understanding of all things Divine, these images and feelings are evoked by the knowledge that a place deemed hallowed has been consecrated and made holy by the divine presence of God. His actual presence in a place.
Imagine a quiet neighborhood in the early morning hours, still sleepy from a night of peaceful rest. A man and his dog venture out for their morning constitutional. The beauty of the morning, the sleepy quiet of the houses as they walk, and the cool feel of the air on his skin brings a smile to his face and a lightness to his steps. There are some heavy things weighing on him and this lovely morning soothes his spirit and invites conversation with the Creator. As he spills his fears and concerns to his Father, he is enveloped in such peace; peace that shouldn’t be there in light of his circumstances and worry yet it is. The Father soothes, calms, and speaks provision and safety into his tired soul. Hallowed.
There is the woman on her bike, following the paved path through the city on her way to work. The busy street, impatient drivers, and slow-moving pedestrians blur as she frets over the presentation she will be giving to new clients, in a few hours. Is she prepared? Did she remember to hit all the important points? Will what she says make sense? As her mind tosses and panic tries to surface, she lifts up a quick prayer asking for wisdom, clarity, and courage. As she pedals, her thoughts come together more clearly as she is reminded of the hard work she put into this, the success she’s had in the past, and that she is enough and deeply loved. Her worries dim and fade. Excitement replaces fear as her tense shoulders and insides relax. The Lord is with her, she can do this. Hallowed.
A long day of hiking and rafting is complete. Night is falling in the campground. The campfire dances and sparks, giving off a warm, happy glow. As s’more fixings are passed between them, the older couple settles into their camp chairs to relax and unwind before heading to bed. This is their favorite way to vacation. The peace of the Redwoods falls about them, filling them with a sense of belonging and joy. They find peace in nature. It restores them like nothing else. As they sit listening to the forest wind down for the night, lost in their thoughts, a comforting and mysterious feeling of being wrapped up and carefully tended to fill their souls. They know they are in the presence of the Holy One. Their little campground in the Redwoods is hallowed ground. The Creator is everywhere, whispering peace in the wind sighing through the tree branches, singing provision as His creatures scout and find nourishment in the nooks and crannies of the forest floor, and speaking joy into this journey of life in the snapping and crackling of the campfire. Hallowed ground.
Wherever life takes you today, I believe you will have myriad opportunities to be in the presence of the Divine; to walk, lie, and sit on hallowed ground as the Father whispers and shouts His love, protection, and presence. He is everywhere and Divine appointments are waiting for you.
This has been on my mind, and I wonder if it resonates with you.
There is only one of us and it is wise to protect, care for and nurture ourselves. We have permission to say no, yes, maybe later or I don’t know. Those are good and valid responses. Long-winded, safely worded justifications for our need to care for ourselves are unnecessary.
When I travel, it resonates with me each time the flight attendant demonstrates the importance of putting the oxygen mask on us first, before attempting to assist someone else. This is exactly it. We need to breathe, function, and allow our physical body and brain to have that essential oxygen, or we won’t make it, and neither will anyone else we attempt to assist. Our minds and souls need the same care and concern – don’t they need to breathe? The process of our physical bodies and souls breathing may operate differently but both are essential. Our souls need time and space to reboot, reconnect, and take up some space – to simply rest. That looks different for each of us. Maybe you reboot in nature and fresh air where you can daydream. Perhaps you need a comfy chair, a favorite drink, and a good book to transport you to another time. Or maybe you like to putter and fuss around your house, garden, or cute boutique and just be.
As we move in close to what we are created to do and begin doing it, unexpected distractions, unresolved issues, and time hogs often rise up vying for our attention, attempting to drown out the whisper of the One leading you toward the good.
Breakthroughs and divine exchanges happen as we move toward our purpose. The Creator removes situations and people as He reworks and rebuilds our souls and bodies as the passion placed in our hearts is ignited and the flames fed. The distractions are there to take away from the difference you will make in the sphere you are placed in, causing doubt, confusion, unhealthy thought patterns and exhaustion.
It’s ok to still yourself for a minute, five or thirty-five and just be. Ask the Whisper to speak louder, move in closer, and wrap you up a bit tighter. He filters out the distractions through the shield of His presence, protection, the authority of His voice and command of His gaze. The One who created you can silence and still ALL storms and remove obstacles that attempt to redirect and defeat. He offers carefully planned opportunities to rest allowing Him to breathe into us the air, peace and healing we need to continue our journey. I hope we all find that place of rest, welcome it in and invite it to stay for as long as needed.
