my dear friend,
Some days, in the rush of midmorning, in the clatter of commute, I long for a slower and quieter life. The feeling aches so deep sometimes I could weep. A dream hovers, calling me to wake with nowhere to be and the most pressing task at hand to watch the sun play with the morning sky. To walk each morning under that wilderness of clouds, then make a pot of loose leaf tea, sit down with a Psalm or a pen? Extravagance.
What are the things you long for? What makes you ache like you'll break your fragile survivor of a heart? What stirs deep in the wilds of your hope-filled soul?
Lore Ferguson Wilbert poses the question helpfully this way: "what are you looking for?" Simple, but what courage it takes to ask this question. Her book, A Curious Faith, has a way of revealing the extraordinary importance of seemingly simple questions. She has encouraged me to ask them of myself and God and the world, to look below the longing for the real longing.
"Asking a question is an act of faith," she says. My heart nods assent. And before a question comes a desire. I think that longing for beauty reveals secret seeds of hope tumbling about in the soil of our souls. Should we have the faith to ask, we might just come to understand the layers of longing.
I long for peace in the morning. For time to let my thoughts grow, to see the world God made and hear him speak. For more of God, because the hurry of life keeps me from him.
So what do you long for? What aches in your soul? Tell me, tell a friend, tell God, tell yourself.
There might be a beautiful seed beneath the tumultuous soil of your soul.