I didn’t intend to share this little piece of writing today. But then I thought maybe you were in a storm too.
*******
On a perfectly sunny afternoon, I climbed in bed at 4pm. Not to sleep but to wallow in the comforts of a heavy heart and a good book. Large, billowing clouds hovered over the horizon like perfect steamed milk. Thirty minutes later, the sky got angry. She does that a lot lately as she ushers in sheets of rain and claps of thunder. I didn’t always see it this way but I think she’s trying to give us a gift. Not just the physical quenching of the thirsty ground but a gift to those of us who have lived our lives defying her, refusing her invitations to stop and hear life’s rhythm and heartbeat. She is trying to shake us awake, to the quiet and rest that only come on the other side of her shouting. The storm is an invitation to stay—to sit in her turmoil, to hear her out, to let her have her say. She has gifts to bring to those who come unarmed.
But I usually build walls.
The rains poured out like red hot tears and I know what it’s like to cry like that—to feel the sting of the washing. Like John Grady Cole (from All the Pretty Horses) I feel like a woman who’s come to the end of something. I know I’ll dance in the rain. But not today. Today, I sit alone and obey the seasons of my heart. I couldn’t move if I tried.
****
She rages on for so long. She has my attention but for the life of me, I can’t see anything for days. Just sheets of white hard rain that refuse to relent.
Until.
The tiniest ray of brave yellow light breaks through her stone cold fortress.
The sound is so familiar.
He’s coming for me, burning down everything that separates us. Like I knew he would.
Ashes blow in the wind like the breath of God.
*********************
It’s not your eyes , it’s not what you say
its not your laughter that gives you away
you’re just lonely, you’ve been lonely too long
all your acting, your thin disguise
all your perfectly delivered lines
they don’t fool me, you’ve been lonely too long
let me in the walls you’ve built around
we can light a match and burn them down
let me hold your hand and dance round and round the flames
in front of us, dust to dust
you’ve held your head up, you’ve fought the fight
you bear the scars, you’ve done your time
listen to me , you’ve been lonely too long
let me in the walls you’ve built around
we can light a match and burn them down
let me hold your hand and dance round and round the flames
in front of us, dust to dust
you’re like a mirror, reflecting me
takes one to know one, so take it from me
you’ve been lonely, you’ve been lonely too long
we’ve been lonely, we’ve been lonely too long
, a little book by Henri Nouwen called 
, and 
by Stanley Hauerwas. I’m half way through 
by Marilynne Robinson and 
by William Faulkner. I just ordered 
by Toni Morrison and hope to finish 
this summer. There is something magical to me about reading. I love language and love to read the best writers, who were nothing if not masters with words.
by Thad Cockrell)? Currently the soundtrack to my days. (Thank you, Keely!)
