I fall into a crumpled mess on the threshold. With snowflakes swirling and the cold of relationships wrapped around me tightly like a scarf. The room was warm with fire and quiet and those little touches that showed great care. The world was entirely too much. Not enough (or any) sleep, so much noise, senseless violence and, where was my place in it all? I don’t want to be waking up each day and only thinking about survival.
I inched my way into the room, almost fearful of exchanging the weight of it all with the release of a crackling fire and a blanket. But He stood there, beckoning, with a mug of something steamy and a hug that held together all my broken pieces. And I wondered, how many times have I shunned His embrace, shunned his open-hearted, gracious welcome, because I try to do this life on my own?
I’m too weary today to say no or turn to Him merely as pretense, to make myself look good. I need all that He offers. I need the table. I need grace. I need the comfort. I need someone who sees.
And so I turn to an ancient book with stories that seem to rival the best tall tale. But in it I see hope and transformation and rest for my weary soul.
This was written in response to the Five Minute Friday prompt, “welcome.” It’s a writing prompt for anyone to join in and write their response in just 5 minutes, no editing. Go visit Kate Motaung’s blog to read other entries.