It took a Saturday of doing only what naturally unfolded and alongside of that… doing absolutely nothing to make a way for Sunday. Well, that’s not totally true. The rest of what it took was a long line of prayer sisters encircling me with all their good intentions and positive wishes. (How thankful I am that I can call upon them!) But once I got to Sunday, a door was open in me and just enough of a rested spirit to lean into what was waiting.
My church is not air conditioned, so we have kind folks who show up early in the summer and open windows and turn on fans. It’s amazing how pleasant it can be even in the thick of Virginia’s summer humidity. I am always drawn to sit on one side of our circled chairs so I can look at the stained glass image of Jesus with the sheep. It brings me great joy and great calm. This Sunday, a fan was placed behind that area of chairs, and I decided to sit right where that fan could blow on me. It was absolutely delicious!
As I settled into the silence and closed my eyes, the breeze from that fan was like a blessing on my head, shoulders, and back. I could feel my body growing soft and pliable. And just like so many years ago when I was bone weary and troubled, it was the breeze from a spinning fan that brought Mama God to me. And she came to me again in this way as I sat in this tiny church. For almost an hour she was at my back, blowing her breath upon me to take away life’s stings. She was stroking my hair and holding me close just like my own mother who knows and trusts the power of touch to heal.
Mama God also spoke to me, as she has before, in that wise, knowing tone that soothes beyond measure. She said, “Awww, girl child. It’s all gonna be alright. Shhhh. You let Mama have it. It’s not yours to carry anyway. You’s too tangled up in this living. You’s got to lets it go.”
And then she sang me a little lullaby while she tapped her foot on the floor. I could almost hear the gentle squeaking of the rocking chair as she held me close. “Hush little girl child, Mama’s here. Let me have it while I hold you dear.”
And we just rocked together and rested and let go of the world that tires our souls.
As our time slowed to a close, Mama had one more thing to say. She said, “Honey, it’s not what you think. It’s how you feel in My presence. So stay close. Grow closer. Find the stillness, and be my girl child. She is all you need to be.”
Alright, Mama. I hear you. I feel you. I love you, and I won’t forget.
My church is not air conditioned, so we have kind folks who show up early in the summer and open windows and turn on fans. It’s amazing how pleasant it can be even in the thick of Virginia’s summer humidity. I am always drawn to sit on one side of our circled chairs so I can look at the stained glass image of Jesus with the sheep. It brings me great joy and great calm. This Sunday, a fan was placed behind that area of chairs, and I decided to sit right where that fan could blow on me. It was absolutely delicious!
As I settled into the silence and closed my eyes, the breeze from that fan was like a blessing on my head, shoulders, and back. I could feel my body growing soft and pliable. And just like so many years ago when I was bone weary and troubled, it was the breeze from a spinning fan that brought Mama God to me. And she came to me again in this way as I sat in this tiny church. For almost an hour she was at my back, blowing her breath upon me to take away life’s stings. She was stroking my hair and holding me close just like my own mother who knows and trusts the power of touch to heal.
Mama God also spoke to me, as she has before, in that wise, knowing tone that soothes beyond measure. She said, “Awww, girl child. It’s all gonna be alright. Shhhh. You let Mama have it. It’s not yours to carry anyway. You’s too tangled up in this living. You’s got to lets it go.”
And then she sang me a little lullaby while she tapped her foot on the floor. I could almost hear the gentle squeaking of the rocking chair as she held me close. “Hush little girl child, Mama’s here. Let me have it while I hold you dear.”
And we just rocked together and rested and let go of the world that tires our souls.
As our time slowed to a close, Mama had one more thing to say. She said, “Honey, it’s not what you think. It’s how you feel in My presence. So stay close. Grow closer. Find the stillness, and be my girl child. She is all you need to be.”
Alright, Mama. I hear you. I feel you. I love you, and I won’t forget.
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