The heart and the mind, and the road on which they meet and frolic has always and remains to be some
The heart and the mind, and the road on which they meet and frolic has always and remains to be something that fascinates me to no end. You and I, we are made up of so MUCH. Jam-packed with thoughts and feelings, an ocean filled with endless floating bracken and sunken treasures. We have been Poured Into. That is how I see it, anyway. When we were being made, in the dimly lit and malleable space between then and now and eternal, our vessels were formed and shaped and Poured Into. Because He is Good, we have been filled to the brim with our Creator’s juices. With holy breath and human cost, we were made into masterpieces, made to be the Master’s Pieces. And since we have been plucked straight from the Vine, maybe – I’m still working it out – but MAYBE our lives are to look little like constant extracting. That stuff we’ve been filled with, maybe it was never intended to stay INSIDE our bodies, but after the Pouring Into, we are supposed to Pour Out. Maybe. As I sit here writing this, I do so in starts and halts. My wee one is growing. It’s a lot of work, this growing. For both of us. I’ve left this chair and entered her nursery no less than 40 times in the last 6 minutes, as I attempt, For The Love of God, to prolong a much-needed nap. It’s not working, ya’ll. I’m staring at her scrunched-up, get-me-the-F-out-of-this-crib-before-I-unleash-the-pit-of-Hades-on-your-tired-azz face, through the monitor, KNOWING I have minutes. Probably seconds. Shit’s about to get real. I am being extracted. While Hazel grows, I am being squeezed, squished and strained. The essence of my self is being funneled through the narrow channels of sacrifice, whereby I am being made into a living offering. I am a grape becoming wine. Cheers. -- source link