Manna Meditations, Day 5
Honest words? Yesterday, my heart was heavy.
I was thinking about a few dear friends who are suffering, quietly and without much support, and the things I knew — the hurt I was carrying for them — hummed behind my eyes like a headache.
It wasn’t a good day for walking or climbing or wandering — the cold felt like it could crack bone — and so I felt trapped indoors with the weight of the hurt… No place to go.
After church, T took the wheel. He steered the car into the blue hills, the unbroken forests, going nowhere in particular … just aiming toward the quiet.
And the quiet was there.
After awhile, I blinked back tears and saw sun — so much sun! The world was bathed in the warmest, thickest, woolen-blanket kind of light, and its sparks caught in the treetops, flickering and winking in the highest twigs. The road ahead of us gleamed wetly with it, even though the air was bone-dry.
I leaned my face against the cool of the window, and suddenly I felt my soul settle into the comfort of just … being. Not working. Not making — no hands on the wheel. Just … looking. Letting in the light.
And it struck me, how precious it was, to be in a place safe enough to just be. To lay back and receive the day’s goodness, not as reward for effort, but simply as a gift.
I let the landscape flash past, and then after awhile I held my phone to the window and snapped without looking, believing that I was in the presence of so much wonder that any of it would have been beautiful … any of it would have been enough.
And you know what? It was.