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Listen:
“As a deer longs for a stream of cool water, so I long for you, O God.”
—PSALM 42:1 (GNT)
Reflect:
What do you long for? That question may feel like shining a light on our heart’s unspoken desires. Longing is not linear; it is not held by the boundaries of time. We long for the beauty of the past. Someone who once held you in his arms. Someone who once really made you laugh. That time back before you were sick or achy. We wish we could just skip ahead to the possibilities of the future—when I finally find them, when I have enough money, enough time or agency, or when they finally listen. We long for what could have been—when we had great plans for a future together...until he died, until the diagnosis, until the divorce. Longing is an ache inside our souls that starts from the seed of love. So maybe our longings aren’t bad but tell us of something truer still.
What is your heart longing for today? Are you longing for something in the future, in the past, or for what might have been?
When archaeologists dig down deep in the hard-packed sediment of civilizations come and gone they find flowers, dried flowers, strewn among the bones. Someone was laid down among their people and the first thought, the best thought, was to pull flowers from the dirt to accompany them. We know an ending when we see one. We attend funerals every day. Big and small, we see our endings.
Blessing:
Last day of school, last hope in that friend,
end of this love or that bit of youth.
Last touch of their warm, paper-skinned hand
before they are stolen away to braid grass into crowns
with the King of Heaven.
And if we are lucky, we pause once a day.
We feel a kindling in our heart which reminds us:
there it is and there it goes.
We tilt our heads, then glance back,
fast enough to see it fade.
And we feel the magnitude of such a miracle–
that anything, anyone, began at all.
And we find ourselves, hearts weighed down
by too much love,
pulling at the grass, searching for flowers.
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