Softer things

I’ve been away. It’s not been long, but it has been long enough. Long enough to realize the words I press so hard on this keyboard often are pressed much softer and weaker in my heart.

Long enough. Long enough to know that I need you, I need people in my life to whisper, to shout, and to pull when I can’t push. Long enough to know that I need grace far more than I need a pen.

It would be tempting to just go. To just go and never return back to these blank pages that invite a thoughtful word. Yet, I need them too. I need this space.

I’m just needy.

But this is a beautiful need. It’s not the need that we so often throw around: our tongues so loose they might come unhinged. It’s the need that we can relate to. It’s the spot in our heart that only wants one thing, but tries so many spickets first.
Pardon my assumption, but we do don’t we? We run to rusty, and spoiled faucets, fighting for a spot to drink our fill, when our beaten, bruised, and holy savior sits offering a cold cup of water for each of us. 
Maybe you don’t find yourself fighting for the drips of rusty water like I do. I pray you don’t friend. I pray that you sit at Jesus’ feet with tears of joy. I pray you are more steadfast than I. 
As I sit and think about the places I’ve ran, the spickets I’ve yearned for, I desperately wish to be immersed. I know spring is coming, and with that my home of three years, will be making brave first trips to the waters edge. There’s nothing like that first plunge after a deep, and long winter. 
I really wish to stop spicket hopping. Do you have the same desire? 
I feel we all must. We all seem to be deeply drawn to an immersion and not just a portion. I can’t cup my hands well enough. The dirty water leaks through and before the crust on my lips is wetted, the water dries up. 
My legs grow jealous. They want to be fully in and squirming. They want to toss around and be free. My whole body urges a plunge and my heart wants nothing more. 
Yet, I wait. I fear I hesitate far too much. The joy written in my Savior’s arms, the hope offered just above His brow, and the peace he has in His eyes, doesn’t seem to entice me enough.
It’s shameful and yet it’s true. Is it common? I pray not, and yet I know we all groan. We all groan to be embraced, yet are all a little wary of fully giving into a hug we know we won’t want to leave. 

I think we should give in. I think we should come to our knees, come with a friend, a sister, a brother; another heart longing to be home. 
I think we should come.

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