inhale...

so often He says, "inhale.  blow out all the yuck - the doubt, the self-hate, the criticism of others, and breathe in ME."

the day comes and i rush through and it ends and begins again and i am out of breath and Papa calls softly, "rest."

i do stuff and i make stuff and i write stuff and i even yell stuff, and Papa says,

"stuff doesn't matter.  I matter.  come be with me."

sometimes i move and i shake and i make noise and i flutter about and i work to make a splash in my little pond and then when it gets quiet i hear my Papa say,

"little one... shhhh... come dance.

lose yourself in the breeze and the warmth -

dance with me."

there's movement that is aimless and wreckless and not in a way that is restful

and

there is movement that is joy-filled

and achingly satisfying

and then i am restless and instead of throwing up my arms and soaking in the Sun

i frantically search around me for ways to fill my hungry heart

and He whispers,

"come.  be with me and be filled by me

and consumed by me,"

and at last

my stubborn heart

listens.

and once again i hear the rhythm of His heart

and i partake of Him

and somehow

i am filled.