While on a run with my husband some months ago I couldn't stop staring at the sky.

The vivid, pastel colors washed the sky in peace. A flock of small birds flew across the cotton candy clouds and I recalled the words "even the sparrows". I knew it came from scripture, but I couldn't recall where. The next morning, I aimed to find it. Turns out, these words are from the psalms, Psalm 84:

"How lovely is your dwelling place,
    Lord Almighty!
² My soul yearns, even faints,
    for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out
    for the living God.
³ Even the sparrow has found a home,
    and the swallow a nest for herself,
    where she may have her young—"

And if even the sparrows find a home, how much more I, his beloved daughter? But, earth-side, the Lord dwelling in me and I in him still means a great deal of suffering. I try and repair my own wounds but the stitching is insufficient. I know he dwells in me through the spirit. But we who live in this not-yet side of eternity see the world as through a clouded veil. We are incapable of seeing its perfection until kingdom come.

But there are moments -- and yes, they are quite fleeting -- when it's as if the veil has been pulled back. In those glimpses I can see clearly how it is to be, when Kingdom breeches the veil and we experience it on earth as it is in heaven. You've seen it, too. When after a rain, the blues and greens seem to glow. That second when you catch a whiff of her sticky strawberry sweat as she darts past you.

May these momentary glimpses behind the veil sustain us until all is fully restored. A time when we will be crowned with dandelions, which represent resilience, persistence, and freedom. As we wait, may we dwell in a bed of irises, which represent faith in what is to come.

She dwells in a garden bed with faith in what is to come, adorned with a crown of resilience, persistence, and one day -- FREEDOM. And while she knows that for now she sees through a veil, dimly, yet one day all will be clearly revealed, restored, renewed.  Oh, Lord, how long?