Thursday October 15, 2026

Love and care.

Spontaneous adventures.

Being seen and cared for.

The feel of a soft bed touching a sore body. A knowing of care when even your soul feels likes it's throbbing.

This is where my mind is this morning. I made bad work-out choices on Monday, so very bad, and my body is staging a revolt. I'm so sore it's a little ridiculous so of course I want all the things I listed above. All. The Things.

I want to be the one to feel my body sink into a bed of rest and healing while someone is caring for my needs. I want to be the one who sees the wounded, stops, changes course, and takes the time to be the caregiver.

I'm reading the Gospel of Luke and this morning I read the parable of the Good Samaritan as well as the story of Mary and Martha, you know, the one where Martha is scurrying around taking care of all the men and Mary is parked at the feet of Jesus? Let's start with the Samaritan, stopping, carrying, bandaging, pouring wine and oil on wounds and paying. The story? The care? I don't know what it was but all of it was like a warm cup of tea and a siren all at the same moment. Wake up! Pay attention. Settle in and feel the care.

I've read the story before, lots of times. My world, my eyes, rarely encounter tenderness and care. Two things so fragile and almost foreign in these parts. The people rushing by part of the parable, that part, is very familiar. I see the rush, feel the rush, know the rush. I fear it is a part of me lodged deep down and so very familiar I don't even blink anymore. I'm very much like Martha. Clip, clop, clip, clopping through my day, focusing on my tasks, going here, going there, not stopping to look, not changing course for an accident, not seeing someone in pain. I simply don't take the time to see it let alone head into it.

The Samaritan did. Mary chose the better way. I suppose the Mary's sitting at the Master's feet has something to do with loving the LORD your God with all your heart, soul, and strength and loving your neighbor as yourself.

On a Thursday.

When I have to go to work, when the clock is ticking and I want to keep all my people happy and do all the things I decide are important to the person I've decided I want to be.

LORD,

Give me eyes to see, ears to hear, and feet willing to walk away from my decided-upon path. Thank you. I know what love, care and moments of being seen feel like. I've experienced it all. Thank you.

I tend to clutch my things, my plans, my way, so tightly I give myself hand cramps. I tell myself what I need and I hold on so tight, teeth clenched, mind set, I miss mercy.

Open my hands.

Relax my jaw.

Give me pause.

Few things are needed, it's true. I don't need all the things I'm holding on to so tightly you'd think my life depended on it. It doesn't.

Letting go is a kind of terror. A fuzzy plan? Yikes! Not really how I roll.

Can you work with me LORD? I'm more of the Martha type, more like the priest and the Levite. Please wrap me up in the feel of a comfy bed with time to rest and heal. Please assure me I'm seen, valued and cared for. I'll sit here, breathe and begin to be willing. Meet me here. Change me by your love and your Spirit. Take my hands. I'll try and empty them of all of me so I can grab onto you.

Lead on.

I want to go where you go.

Amen.