A longing too deep for words.

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again; from the depths of the earth you will bring me up again. You enfold and comfort me again. Psalm 71:20-21

Prayer is the light of the spirit, and the spirit, raised up to heaven by prayer, clings to God with utmost tenderness. Like a child crying tearfully for its mother, it craves the milk that God provides. I speak of prayer, not words. It is the longing for God, love too deep for words, a gift not given by humans, but by God’s grace. –John Chrysostom (c. 347-407)

Simone loves her daddy. It was a long, long walk up the beautiful mountain yesterday. And Simone was with her daddy, pretty much insisting on walking the entire way herself, holding her daddy’s hand, proud and happy. When things get rough in life, daddy is where she goes.

Simone loves her sister. She stares at Everette with her big brown eyes full of absolute adoration. And whatever Everette does: take a flying leap into the Fat Boy, canter like a beautiful horse, or pluck handfuls of grapes, Simone toddles right behind, eyes fixed on her muggawugga big sis.

Simone loves animals, all animals. Sort of. She reaches out both hands and wiggles her fingers to horses and dogs and kittens and rabbits and donkeys and anything with four legs. But should the animal respond to the beckon and move forward with curiosity, Simone flees, clutching herself behind the nearest knees in terror. 

And actually Simone loves Mimi. Sometimes all of the essentials have been met, but she just can’t drift off because life is a little too fun. So Mimi will scoop her up and walk her around and around until she snuggles into sleep. Yesterday she came all the way down the mountain zipped inside Mimi’s black Mexico Outreach jacket, clutching the two strings around Mimi’s neck.

But then there is Momma.

And sometimes no one, nothing else will do.

Momma who wraps the long grey fabric around and around, binding Simone right up against her beating heart bosom. And Heather says that the wrap helps regain some of the intimacy of carrying a child within her womb, when every tumble and turn was felt as one.

Too deep for words, this longing, this oneness.

The most wonderful thing is unity with Jesus and with the Father. In Him we shall partake in God if we firmly resist and flee all the arrogant attacks of the prince of this world. Unity of prayer, unity of supplication, unity of mind, unity of expectancy in love and in blameless joy. –Ignatius of  Loyola

Sometimes I let down my guard, my shield of faith, and the flaming darts pierce my spirit and thoughts. And I believe the lie that I am alone. And I ache in a way too deep for words. And nothing the world has to offer in its beauty and bounty and warm laughter can fill the gaping emptiness.

O Lord, let my soul rise up to meet You,

As the day rises to meet the sun.

Your grace enfolds me and comforts me.

Again.