My friends are late this morning, so I sit in the booth and watch the sun turn the sky a peppery pink. The heat of her rising transforms the clouds into balloons and they lift slowly up from the horizon, drifting away from that flat line of earth. This is how the moments pass this past week—like air lifting them from beneath. Time is moving forward unaided by me, some invisible hand keeps moving it along.
We are meeting for coffee, two of my best girls and me, and while I wait I pray for them; I pray for the details of their lives I have been privileged to hold. I left my boys at the breakfast table, still cloaked in sleep. My last-minute instructions were ignored, my voice more background noise belonging to an awakening world. So when they text me for help, I smile to myself. Some things have to be worked through alone.
I am working it through.
These past few days there has been so much I want to write down but the right words do not exist. This feeling—this tender ache for life—how it fills me up inside. And I want to hang on to it but I know life is a circle dance and this looping around prepares me for a wider grace that holds me within its embrace.
After the coffee and the catching up, I sit alone and open my Bible in this lonely house. There is that verse—the same one that always brings me to a place of calm: Psalm 46:10. Be still and know that I am God. But today it is the latter part of that verse that holds me in thrall: I will be exalted…This slowing, this stilling of the body, it exalts God.
Sometimes, the right words do not exist. But God will be exalted no matter. So I sit still in Lucy Mae’s favorite morning sun spot with a box of Triscuits and I touch the place inside of me that knows.
And He is exalted.