Risk

I was weighed down.

Heaviness. On my chest, on my shoulders, on my heart.

A pressure I felt upon waking,

A burden I carried, even as I laid down to sleep.

I moved slowly under the load.

And as my world slowed down,

I began to hear.

I was being challenged.

Tried.

Pressed further /

Risk, the quiet voice encouraged.

But I tried to untangle my own mess.

To lay down my own load.

Only to tangle it further,

to trip over my pile of "stuff", I had not successfully gotten rid of -

but only off-loaded /

I found myself questioning:

The motive of the Father.

The purpose and existence of that, which acted as my burden /

But I listened.

To the still, small voice /

Listening is not easy.

Listening does not always relieve you of a burden or a load.

But tonight, all He was requiring of me was attentiveness.

To hear Him and act upon that /

And in the very moment I did so,

acknowledging my incapability,

risking that, which I valued too highly anyway,

entrusting Him /

A butterfly,

orange and black wingspan,

floated by my face on the wind

Delaying, hovering, before flying away

Disappearing from my sight /

Healing

Growth

Transformation /

It was never about the burden itself.

It was about trust.

Risking what was most precious to me,

allowing the Lover of my Soul to take care of my life /

It was He who called it a wellspring

And He is a guardian /

I awoke this morning

unfettered

unencumbered

one thousand years older /