Filling

I think this little Willow Tree angel is called the Angel of Good Health, but I always think of her as the Angel of Bounty.

She is how I would love to be, my hands, arms full of good things, spilling over for my family and friends. This notion of being filled up, fully nourished in the soul and sloshing into my world and the world keeps coming back to me. Partly because so much of this year I have felt very not-filled.

And in my life of faith I have come up against the reality of seasons-- that this has been a season of lack and emptiness, and there is no quick fix. Sometimes it has been the result of being poured out-- intenionally giving to others. And sometimes it comes from being spilled-- hurt and lost and empty. And none of it is outside God's provision and reach.

Only in emptiness can I really empathize with those who feel empty, only with unfilled hands can I grasp another's hands and say, "Yes. I know what you mean." And beneath it, know that He is there.

I have resisted this season, and filled my hands with all kinds of "busy nothings." And the last few days, all my pretentions have come crashing down. And now I think I am ready to say, "OK. What's next? I am waiting, with open hands."

This morning I had music on, and Sam said, "Mommy, dance with me." I haven't felt like dancing much. But even down to my heavy feet, I know no three-year old invitation lasts forever. So I jumped up, and we whirled and twirled and I swept him up and spun him until he was laughing and dizzy. He lowered his head to my shoulder and was kissing me with lots of tiny smacks. And I received and kissed back. And laughed and cried and prayed.

"Thank you."