PISTEUO! Connecting with God's heart
Supplement to Chapter 1
I strung words together. For three months I just stitched words together while God stitched me together and, after three months of threading like this, I've stitched a devotional together and I still have spools in every color to share. That's what the sections I call "Connecting with God's Heart" are for. They're like sewing rooms, or maybe like my laundry room where I keep spools of thread and stitching needles on the wall above the ironing board, and spare buttons on the shelf above the dryer, because I don't have a stitching room.
My laundry room is about ironing board width, but it has what I need. Room for stitching britches and hearts.
"Connecting with God's Heart" happens in every chapter. I poised my pen like threaded needle over sheets of journal and began a keepsake quilt to display every color and pattern of faith that God gave me in those three months; at least, as many as I noticed. Some of them are in each chapter.
My pen is still poised. I'm still connecting with God's heart, threading thoughts and stitching out more quilt.
It's my pisteuo quilt.
I find patches of faith and stitch them together till hope covers my life and tucks all around me. This is pisteuo. It's believing, trusting, hoping. It's living faith and undying hope.
I have a copy of my book, and I'm doing the devotional. Is that odd? Perhaps, but I started doing this long before I wrote it down. I'm devoted to living full of pisteuo because I'm changed when I stitch faith to faith.
I have these extra spools that never run out.
If you have my book, then you have pieces of my quilt. I've shared them in "From my Journal." I'm just not putting my needle and thread down. Not putting my pen down. Not stopping.
So here's more. Quilt with me? Find patches of faith with me?
Spools of Thread
I spoke with God, "I want to give to those who read what I string together. I can't give them recipes every week, and You and I know I'm not a crafter."
He laughs with me, "Stick to how I've stitched you." He saw the bookmark idea. I tried and mine was sorry indeed!
"What can I give these precious people?" I asked.
"Give what I'm giving you." He says it so simply that I wonder why I didn't think of this.
He's given me these spools of thread on my laundry room wall. They've been there for ever, but today they look a lot like what stitches faith to hope, and my heart to God's.
I can't see hope, but maybe I can see its stitches.
written by: Carolyn-Elizabeth