God Speaks Italian

I asked God for help one day...
and He answered me in Italian.

"Arbella," He said.
"I don't understand"
"you will" He responded.

"How will I know?"
He smiled, "because I'll show you"

I was curious, "what does Arabella look like?"
"It looks different for each person."

I asked what mine looked like and He said one day I would find out.

Time went by...

and I did.

My Arabella looks like an old yamaha guitar proped in a corner waiting to be played.
It looks like painted ceilings and colorful yarn for knitting.

My Arabella looks like a house on the river with broken fishing poles in the garage and worms above the fridge.
It looks like a home cooked country breakfast made of biscuits and gravy shared with someone close.

My Arabella looks like a big cup of coffee and unlimited flavors of cream.
It looks like too many groceries, not enough bathrooms, and just the right amount of love.

My Arabella looks like leftovers for lunch, but never for dinner.
It looks like a crowded driveway, a jar of peanut butter, and an occasional visit from a Queen and her Bo.

My Arabella looks like a baptism in a basement surrounded by friends from close by and family from far away.
It looks like a life saved, a passion found, and an enemy lost.

My Arabella looks like a vegetarian who eats meat and a house mom who knew all along.
It looks like it's crowded on Friday nights, empty on Saturday mornings, and perfectly attended come Sunday afternoon.

My Arabella looks like a voice that learned how to sing out loud, a hand that learned how to reach out for help, and a life that learned how to live in abundance.

As God listened, He smiled.

He saw a change in me and asked where it came from.

He knew I couldn't speak Italian, but I made my best attempt...

"Arabella" I said.


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"Arabella" is Italian for "answered prayer." It is also the name of the group home I lived in while undergoing treatment for my eating disorder.