Why we really do need each other…

Dining Room Table photo by wanderingone The laughter rings like church bells around the table, calling me home. I fill a plate and slide into a seat. These faces, these women, have walked the hills and valleys with me.

We’re not in a sanctuary (or are we?) but at a kitchen table. After a week of being snowed in and fighting the flu, my voice feels rusty from disuse.

We swap the usual questions, “How are you? What have you been up to?” Answers range from casual to confidential without a thought.

We are safe here.

The food on my plate slowly disappears. I find myself saying, “I feel full.” And then I realize I’m not talking about the food at all.

I’m talking about my heart.

“You are the salt of the earth,” said Jesus.

My world has felt a bit bland lately. Now I understand why. You see, when I struggle I sometimes do the opposite of what works best.

When Sharon left this comment on my post at (in)courage, I nodded in understanding:

I find myself asking God to help me remember the tiny moments, enjoying the detail of each one and enjoy it to the fullest. Resting in the moment and not getting over stressed about what I may see coming on the horizon. Not to sit on the couch…I am finding that the sitting on the couch is an enabler to my depression. To keep busy, focused on what matters, doesn’t give me time to wallow in self-pity and therefore I spend less time being overwhelmed and drowning in pools of depression.

When I’m hurting, I withdraw. When I do so my plate may not be as full but it sure isn’t as satisfying either.

I’m learning how much I need the salt of my brothers and sisters–the salt of tears shed together, the salt of sweat when we work side by side, the salt of a smile cracked at just the right moment to make the world right again.

I need that salt even in (especially in?) my wounds. 

That’s how we heal.

I look up from being lost in my thoughts. My friends, these beautiful women from my church small group, have their elbows on the table, forks mid-air, sentences splitting the air with life. “Holley, aren’t you going to eat the rest of your food? What are you thinking about?” 

I lean across the table and smile.

Suddenly, I’m hungry for more.

written with love for you by holley

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About Holley

About Holley

Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author and Life Coach

I like humans, words, and good coffee. And I’d love to help you beat what’s holding you back, become all you’re created to be, and kick butt for the greater good.

Cheering you on,

Holley

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