This morning, the sky was an heirloom. Soft folds of wispy white clouds drew patterns across a canvas of blue, ancient lace hung over the sky.
Underneath this tablecloth sky…I run.
The rhythm of my breath gives voice to silent prayers, and as the miles tick off beneath my pounding feet, I feel them with me—those lifted up like incense.
Gratitude, heavy–yet lending my feet weightless, seems to run alongside me.
I am praying for my friends.
I think of a friend who is under the weather.
I want to bless her.
Later, as I prepare her dinner, two other friends stop by.
I kick the pile of shoes out of the doorway as they come in. I clear the piles of papers from the table, conscious of my dirty kitchen floor.
They sit as I cook.
And the food is all the better for the conversation we share.
They offer help, but it is almost done. And my heart remembers something my mother-in-law always tells me: The best help you can give is to keep me company while I work.
These smiling faces. These faces I love…
This community of friends.
How blessed I am, Oh Lord!
I have been feeling out of place. Out of sorts.
Leaving one church…not sure of another? In each place I feel like I don’t belong. I stand on this threshold, between the two. Not able to move forward. Not able to step back.
I have been living far too much in my skin. Perceptions change when I long to bless others. Take the focus to Him. Not me.
The meal is delivered. I pray it blesses.
Later, I talk to my friend. One of the sitting, smiling ones.
“After my surgery, I’ve never felt closer to the church; when you guys brought us food. That was really nice.”
I, too, remember times when my family was blessed in this way.
This community of friends, the ones I commune with; we are not contained by the walls of a church.
Our lives are intertwined like the lacy patterns in the sky.
Today I realize this for the first time.