When healing happens,even if it is just a small step on a long journey, I crave solitude. I can hear His voice and I know I am on the right path. Breadcrumbs.
When all gets still with my soul, I notice little things.
Groovy Kind of Love. Phil Collins songs are often piped in on the sound system at the local grocery store.
The bagger asks, "Do you need help getting these to your car?" I say "No, thank you." Because I don't need the help. Not this time.
When things are quiet, like a stolen moment to return last week's books to the library and to pick up a few more for this week's bedtimes, I love to look at the spines of books. Especially the older books for middle school-aged kids. The books from the 50's and 60's possess something of my soul.... can't quite describe it, but they, like many things from that era, draw me to themselves somehow. Inanimate little devils.
Vintage sheet set handed down from my grandmother to use for sewing projects. Little did she know they would end up fitting my bed. Just. Perfectly. Gauze dressing for the heart. Cheery little flowers.
The beautiful sound of a friend's voice. Water to the parched earth.
Small things that keep me sane.