Make an offering of your life.
Outside the narrow confines of other’s approval.
Risk judgment. Risk ridicule. Risk adoration.
Let it all be. Beyond you.
Let your life pour like a drink, quenching the thirst of the parched earth.
Pour and pour and pour until you and the earth and all others are one.
Problems give way to clarity, pave the way for new beginnings, force long-needed change.
Resentment is lazy.
You are not here to be your family’s cup of tea.
You have a purpose beyond their pleasure.
The challenge is to love them (and especially yourself) while displeasing them.
Even Jesus disappointed his mother for Christ’s sake.
“Go away! I’m too tired. Leave me alone,” I say, when She arrives like she has of late, composing, even before my eyes are open.
And then I take it back, too afraid am I She won’t come back…
The heat inside rises like a wave up the breadth of my back and over the curve of my breast up toward my face.
The air condition in the hotel room, set low, is no matter. There is a steady fire beneath me.
I consider pouring cold water on the mattress like we did on our pillows when the sticky nights kept my sister and me from sleeping.
But water is no match for the child with the chemistry set inside; though I have taken to cool showers before bed and sometimes upon waking during the night.
Some nights she plays just a little; other times she is tireless; and I wake like I do today, barely rested, but hewing closer to Her because there is less of me.
“There! Are you happy!” I say aloud.
I’ve listened and written, dutifully Her servant these 36 years.
“Please come again.”
Language has power.
Our words, like our lives.