Tired tonight. Feel a bit avalanched by Christians praying this and declaring that and people telling us all the 100 steps to take to sanitise your home when you get back from essential shopping and how masks are important (yes they are, mostly for health professionals). Yadayada. You know. Oh, and whatsapp groups that are pat-pat-dear with, I kid you not, more than 50 messages a day and only 3-6 people on the group.
Sorry, now I am ranting. Oops. Dear friends, not talking about you, my besties. You know that?!
I seem to be shedding social media right now!
Perhaps all these things help faith. But I think I am coming to realise that faith comes by hearing the Word of God (er, that's Jesus according to John 1v1). Not hearing the ding or the declaration or the admonition. It's about hearing Him whisper in the quietness. "You can do this" or "Share this moment with me".
This seems to be my quiet internal thinking season, not my loud out-there-verbalising season. I've just had a lovely long bath and thinking time all on my own which helps. No phone in sight. And now I am trying to put this down in words. Be kind to me - I am rambling tonight. It's been a full day.
Family are all ok - DD is colouring in art works and loving it. HD was trying to get back onto Minecraft which led to major arguments and unhappiness. I don't like the person he becomes when he plays and after he plays. This is a new challenge to deal with. HH is a rock and delight and wonderful at balancing our family boat when it wobbles.
Let me dive into it... I have spent the whole day thinking about my 21 day lockdown art challenge and today's topic. Healing.
What is the picture I have in my mind when it comes to healing? What pictures do other people have? I'm wrestling with how to articulate healing or visualise it explained in an image. Not the usual stuff. Perhaps the closest I have come today is the mental picture of a smaller hand being held in a larger hand. That kind of sounds more like "support" but... I think it's all about touch.
Touch. Reaching out. And on that note, I'm turning off the light and sliding into bed to the sound of gentle breathing next to me.
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