Thirst
by Elouise
This August 2017 post caught my heart today. Perhaps it will catch yours. We seem to be running out of our hoarded resources.
Thirst
consumes me
parches my soul
throttles energy
makes me wary
cautious
lest I lose
one precious drop
Hoarding
sets in like drought
grows and multiplies
invades every
vein in my body
sucks me dry
prepares me
for death
Gasping
I refuse
to relinquish
what is mine
by right and law
wrung from
this earth by
my own hands
Heedless
I rush headlong
into a desert
of my making
No one
looks my way
or offers
one precious drop
***
Here’s another option from the prophet Isaiah:
Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me,
and eat what is good,
and you will delight in the richest of fare.
Isaiah 55:1-2 (New International Version)
I’ve been thinking about the way we seem to be turning inward. Supposedly protecting ourselves and our own, lest something terrible happens and we’re left high, dry and more vulnerable than ever. But I wonder.
Ironically, the best way to ensure disaster may well be to shut down our hearts and hang onto our assets, however meager they may be.
This isn’t about political parties, racial identity or religious beliefs. It’s about our common humanity. The capacity in each of us that’s capable of welcoming and providing hospitality to strangers. And the capacity to receive hospitality from others.
It isn’t easy. We’re never promised success, safety or survival for ourselves or others. We are, however, promised the satisfaction of receiving and passing on small bits of grace and gratitude. Some of those tiny drought-proof seeds that grow only when they’re given away.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 August 2017; reposted on 15 March 2021
Image found at feelgrafix.com
I’ve been thinking about the “good” I could possibly take out of the past 4 years my daughters and I went through with my husband, their dad, when he was at the end of his fire fighting career and retiring. He was suicidal and extremely emotionally and verbally abusive to us. If I could’ve afforded to leave, I would’ve, but I couldn’t, and I still can’t.
I think there might be something we could offer in hope if we can heal.
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Hi, KS. What a sad situation for all of you. I’m guessing there’s a ton of thirst in your family. I pray you and each of your family members will find safe ways to heal from this thirst you’ve been living with for too long. Though I haven’t been in your shoes, I’ve had my own challenges when it comes to hope and healing. Sometimes we must take huge risks in order to regain our own sanity and health. Thanks so much for your comment.
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Wow, your response made me tear up. We could definitely use some prayers!
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🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
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