The Gap

It’s always an honor to stand in the gap for someone. To whisper in the deep of the night you are not alone. To place your praying hand on someones aching back. To deep breath with each labor pain as if to say, I know this ache.

It feels the same to sit in a cement slab, in the heat, while hunger echos and tell them, I see your need. I see your heart. Help is on it’s way. The bellies will be filled.

What places I’ve held what seats I’ve taken. Dirty benches filled with traces of wonder and hope. Cold floors filled with incense in the dark of the night. A babies first breath and first cry, new life on a new dawn and the outside world just goes on. And they, they made room for me. My heart, my soul, to intercede. They reached out their hand and I grabbed it, I lifted it higher. To the only One that can really meet needs. And I whispered the truths they needed to hear, the ones that were whispered to me. And I leaned into insight and cried aloud for understanding and she filled my soul. With enough, enough fruit to give away. Enough hope to sustain in the brokenness. Standing at the altar of regret and remorse and wishes and dreams, my ear bends.

To listen to the soul that can’t take anymore, but only, if only it could be heard. If the ache could be filled, if their deepest prayer wouldn’t ricoche off of bouncing walls in their brain but instead be heard be received be known. And if it’s known, what then? Oh what then. The soul relaxes back into it’s frame and reminds it’s mind to be at peace. It is in the holding of the hand that rejoices and says, I am not alone. I have been heard. I am held. I looked into someones eyes and shared the inner most parts of my being and they looked back into my eyes and they said love.

We walk half filled, half craving, half distracted, half dreaming, half in pain…to know if we focus on one we might be undone. But. It is in those glimpses of time when we share it. When we speak it. When we write it. When we dance it. When we say it aloud to an unassuming, unrejecting, unjudging, unconditional ear that we can, in that moment, be filled. To the brim with contentedness. For it is in being known, that we truly heal, and we uncover what was hurting all along was not the baggage placed on our backs but it was in the carrying of it all by ourselves.

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