I swallow them down — those words — and they soothe the way steaming soup and bread and butter do. They speak to me, to that ancient soul that peeks out from underneath To Do lists and the overwhelming anxiety of the too-much-to-do’s that overwhelms my ability to notice, to pause, to drink in silence.
Thank you for showing up. For speaking truth. For looking me in the eye. For noticing me. For seeing me with your words. For turning towards me when we each want to retreat to quiet or whatever’s playing on Netflix.
With tiredness and tears I come at you with fists flying, with a voice that is hoarse from overwork and you enfold my anger in kindness. Because anger just masks the hurt, the shame, the not-feeling-good-enough. It isn’t the root of the problem.
And your words are living water. They stop me in my tracks and they sting with truth but they soothe with oil, and my parched heart is refreshed.
It all feels a bit mechanical, a bit ancient, a bit like playing a game. Where I open your words and expect life. But you notice me in sunshine and the crispness of Fall. In the gifting of blessed moments of quiet and reflection. In smiles and kindness and stillness, you meet me and pour out your words that fill me up so that I’m running over.
To be noticed, loved, the daughter of the High King without a worry because there is a source to turn to. And it is not my To Do list, or my sickness, or my lack of cleanliness. It is a wellspring of living water that never, ever runs dry.
This is was written for 5 minute Friday, a weekly link-up with a one-word prompt. This week’s word was “notice.” I hope it gives your heart some sustenance today. I’ll return to posts about life Around the Table tomorrow.