I wake this morning to find my hands resting on the pillow beside my head, my fingers uncurled.
I smile to think about the smallness of the moment and yet, these open hands mark answered prayer and prayers answered are no small things.
They are miracles.
I stand in the shower for long, steamy minutes, the stream of water beating down on my back and my eyes aren’t closed this morning. They’re wide open, just like my hands, pressed against the shower wall.
This is all new to me, this wide openness in the dark of the morning.
And I am no longer chained to fear.
I am free.
I pour Cheerios and orange juice and these kids have no idea the stirring I feel deep down to my toes. They wipe the sleep from their eyes and I wonder it they see something different.
I wonder if my shoulders sit a little higher.
This change of posture, the shrugging off of these chains, has been years in the making.
But the freedom has been experienced in one small moment, after one small moment, after one small moment.
And I am being changed in all of these moments. They are adding up.
I marked something off my calendar last night. It was a good thing. A God thing, even.
Desperation works in mysterious ways and so I’ve lived a calendar year doing lots of good things trying to fill up all of my soul holes. But good things don’t feel soul holes.
I know that now. I think I’ve always known that. But I plan to live the next year living like I know it.
I want to spend my moments fasting from the doing and feasting on the being.
The being with the hubs.
The being with my small tribe.
The being with my people, the ones who fill my cup and the ones I’m called to fill.
And the being in Christ.
There is much freedom found in simply being.