Last night when we took our evening walk to the creek, some of the neighborhood children shyly shuffled up to us with downcast eyes and hands held out to Lucy Mae. She took their pats and gratefully licked sticky fingers and those little faces became the moon. And then those little legs scuttled up and away and plopped down prone at the top of a thick-grassed knoll. I gaped as these three children pulled their arms in to their sides and rolled down that hill amidst squeals of delight. We watched, dumbstruck, as their limbs and trunks spun round and round and even Teddy had a grin on his face.
We resumed our leisurely stroll but I suddenly had a craving for a popsicle. I told the boys that this was one of our prime summer activities when I was a girl—this rolling down hills. This and the lying flat on the back, looking for pictures in clouds. And the catching of the fireflies. They let me ramble on a bit about going berry-picking and how a ripe raspberry melts on the tongue on a hot summer day.
Isn’t this summer? This carefree openness to the days?
I could still hear the joyful shouts of the children behind me and my heart felt like a stone inside of me. Heavy.
What does it mean to come to Jesus as a little child?
This morning, before I opened my eyes, I asked the Lord to help me live into the woman He wants me to be. He has loved me into life, into dreams, into a place of joy…but sometimes…sometimes it feels like all this growing takes me further away from Love. In my journal this morning I asked what it would look like—this living into my true self.
It means speaking and acting from truth, I wrote. Not from these fears and insecurities that plague me.
A wise woman is not one who has all the answers, but one who knows she is loved, delights in being loved, and speaks and acts out of this Love.
This morning, as the rain falls down and I watch the earth gather its luster…I am wondering if a wise woman is someone who also rolls down hills.
I’m a morning person and happiest in a place with no walls. Give me a bed of grass and a blanket-sky and I will dream deep in wonder. But a good story takes me to this place too. And a poem? Even better. You can always find me here. Or connect with me on on facebook, twitter, or pinterest.