a covenant for today

i've been thinking a lot about covenants lately. in my earnest and heartfelt attempt to understand, truly understand, the Bible, i've started again back at the beginning. deep in the language of genesis, there's mention of these sacred promises. to never again send rain to cover the earth. that all the land, as far as abraham could see, would be his. that his family would be fruitful enough to cover that land with babies and women and love. that sarah could have her taste of miracles, even though by any other standard than God's, she was too old for such dreams.

they were big, these covenants. huge. they were a declaration that things would be OK for you. that there would be long days of gray and heartaches, but there would also be sunshine. so much sunshine that the dove would never come back and you would forget the flood.

reading it, i rejoiced for these people. these early foragers plowing their way through life, guinea pigs of the most fantastic kind. and i, too, ached for a covenant. an assurance.

but i was reminded this morning, driving to work with my hard boiled egg and favorite song, that such a covenant does exist. it exists when i sneak a peek at pablo asleep on the pillow, his little paw tucked under his chin. or at robert, putting his folded clothes into the old dresser. it exists when i hold hands across the table with my family, like last night at mama's. and on my favorite two-second walk to the mailbox at the end of the day.

the same promises that were made to these ancient ancestors hold true for us today. the flood won't last. there will be sun. there will be redemption. there will be mercy. there will be babies. there will be life. there will be forgiveness. there will be joy.