He left without saying goodbye this morning and I was devastated.
I cried a little. God filled His wineskin as the fullness of the past few days washed over me.
There hasn’t been time to breathe.
On my way home from work the other day, I realized I was holding my breath–my entire body locked up, tense and waiting. In ancient days, this stress response prepared one for whatever was necessary. Fight or flight they call it. But there I was, in rush hour traffic, flooded with stress hormones–poised for anything but going nowhere.
I forced air in and out of my lungs, deep and slow.
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.