Wednesday, June 16th

Jesus wept.
(John 11:35 NRSV)

She made her way through the desert of her soul
parched by pandemic, politics, and pain;
her chin held high, stoic and strong,
displaying her optimism as a banner of hope.
“God is our stronghold, our shield, our rock,”
she proclaimed, to those who yearned
for a soft and tender caress instead.

She held fast to her faith,
desperately clutching it to her chest
as moments, memories, and people she loved
were snatched from her embrace.
The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
she publicly professed
while she inwardly wondered,
“Will you forget me forever?”

And when the desert time was nearly over,
she paused to quietly grieve
the three who no longer walked this world.
A sudden tear surprised her…
then another and another…
soon the tears were pouring down her cheeks,
her thin veneer of peace now shattered
and every sorrow spilling through her fingers.

She grieved for herself
then for her dear ones
then for the world…
for the memories she would not make
for the losses she could not recover

for the lies and the lines
of hatred and division that form in dry times,
for walls and distances that separate
people from people, people from God;

and tears of grief flowed unabated
for doctors and daycares
for frontliners and families
for racism and riots
for police and people of color
for borders and babies
for violence and vaccines
for India and Italy
for countries and continents
for all places and all people.

Her fresh tears poured out –
but the dry, barren ground soaked in,
becoming dark and damp soil,
cool beneath her weary feet.

She grieved and she placed
each sorrow into grace…
then, drained and depleted,
gently wiped her eyes
to find a tiny sprout of new life
breaking courageously
through fresh and fertile ground

and she smiled.
The soil of her soul was ready
to grow something new.

Bible verses quoted:
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted.” Psalm 34:18
“Will you forget me forever?” Psalm13:1

Photo by Karen, Hurricane, WV

2 Comments on “WATER THE SOIL

  1. Beautiful, Karen. You are “she”, right? We all are…


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