Inflexible, rigid, immovable, carved in stone…There’s a place for these, but in me is not that place. I’m meant to give. My body says so.

I’m meant to be flexible, able to bend against the storms of life and not snap.

I’m meant to be supple, easily folded, twisted and worked into shape.

I’m meant to be elastic, stretching without breaking as forces threaten to pull me apart.

I’m meant to be pliable,  yielding to hands that refine and reshape as I’m put to use.

The world may call me a pushover, accusing me of giving way too easily, hesitating too much, bending too readily. “Stand firm for your convictions or the steamrollers of progress will flatten your good intentions, your bleeding heart, and your diplomacy,” it exhorts. “Dig in your heals and learn how to take a punch without flinching!”

That’s just not me. I’m made to bend, flex, stretch and yield. I’m meant to give so I don’t break, perhaps especially because my toes are wedged firmly under the cornerstone who is unmovable, firm and uncompromising.

In a world that seems often to spin out of control, it is good to know there is a place for solid rock.

All else is sinking sand.