Don’t just tell me you love me,
Visit when I’m sick
sick of life
sick of hardship
sick of loneliness
Nourish when I’m empty
pangs of hunger
out of options
Supply when I’m thirsty
offer a sip
of what you’re drinking
melted chips of ice
When I’m unprotected
victim of the hurtful
vulnerable to the willful
Don’t just tell me that you love me,
If I’m opposed, understanding
If I’m young, humor
If I’m old, honor
If I’m angry, calm
If I’m confused, clarity
If I’m distraught, empathy
If I’m falling, lift
If I’m hurt, help
Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me.
Except I hide my sitting in moving. But trust me, I’m sitting on the inside. Oh, not lounging-on-the-couch-with-a-soda-and-popcorn-in-front-of-a-movie kind of sitting. No, I mean myself, the part of me who knows she is me, is seated and stilled. I must disguise this as moving because, were I to ACTUALLY sit, I’d be accused of sitting around which is wasting my time which is NOT allowed.
So, while I move, I sit.
And while I sit, I whir. The cogs turn and the wheels spin and holy smoke probably rises from my brain factory. Gone totally rogue, my ideas bump into each other, introduce themselves, recognize old friends, and sit and chat. So now THEY’RE sitting, too! The sound of a million voices is deafening, silent to the passerby, of course, but not to me.
I don’t mind it, though. It’s not distracting. In fact, it’s engaging to host a multitude of delightful thoughts, all with a chance to do more than gather, more than collect, more than mill around waiting for instructions. Here, in my very head which is bobbing along the roadway looking like it’s DOing something, these thoughts are churning. They are comparing notes, discovering, unearthing, creating. It’s quite a process. Never know what might turn up, or who.
Perhaps I will jot a few notes when I get home if there’s a particularly juicy tidbit. Or maybe if l let things mull and age and ruminate they will make themselves available for my next opportunity to sit, I mean, move.
Please don’t tell anyone. It’s really quite subversive, this stilling. In fact, it could be dangerous.
*phrase borrowed from a favorite greeting card.
“While living the Christian life is difficult – even risky – what it means to be a Christian is actually simple: we are called to love the Lord our God and to love our neighbors as ourselves.”
“God desires to lead us not dominate us.”
“He is with me to show me his wounds and to heal mine.”
“How did you deal with your own feelings about being late?” “I’ve learned to trust God to take care of it on the other end. Now when, through no fault of my own, I’m running late and have notified others of my dilemma, I’m learning to believe God is at work wherever I am heading.”
“God asks us to learn from our failures and mistakes but not to live in our past pain. We take steps toward newness of life as we daily turn from the temptation of despair and put our hope in God.”
“Remember: God already knows what is in our hearts, so we are not informing the Lord of our cares and burdens when we seek God in prayer. We are laying our burdens upon the Lord so that we no longer need to carry them ourselves.”
“God always waits for us to return.”
“Jesus made a choice to save me from my bad choices.”
“The gift of his magnificent sacrifice and his offer of eternal life gives him pleasure.”
“Great God, help us to see opportunities in obstacles. Lead us by your Holy Spirit that we might act boldly like the apostle Paul. Amen.”
“Never let those cards stop coming. Everyone else forgets.”
Thanks for stopping by in 2014. The Kinesthetic Christian blog will continue with regular posts in the new year. It seems to be the ballast by which God balances the rest of what I do.
Here’s to a productive, God-centered, powerful 2015 for one and all!