Really, it’s a lie when we compliment after passed years, say someone is exactly the same. I suppose what we’re wanting to say is that the essence of you — the unique spark of you — is intact. The one we recognized then, the one we see now.
But aren’t we always changing even as we keep on at the same things? Endless loops working their way out into lines, twists and turns, loose threads that we hold out in cupped hands. Never really the same.
I look in her dark brown eyes and watch the turn of her mouth as she talks of faltering and failing and trusting, loneliness and clinging, and I see her, and I see me, too. How we are the same.
I consider refugees fleeing with only their children and the day’s clothes and all those mourning this day. How tragically different those lives are from my own, and yet we dwell under the same sky.
Light shifting baby to royal, unknown storming in, love and loss clouds streaking with long ago dreams.
I remember our fashioning that is the same. Same uniting of bodies, cells. Souls placed within, deep that calls unto deep.
From the beginning, newborn eyes search for holy assurance outside the womb — where the cord linked to the blood of another life — that we are not so suddenly all alone. Eyes locking. You see me. We are same.
I walk the edge of the river. See gray after gray rock, and yet one I reach to pick up. Different calling out among the same. I let it rest in my palm, make it uniquely warm by my touch.
Joining with the Five Minute Friday community today with the prompt: SAME. I so appreciate all your encouragement to keep on writing. I know it’s true. Here I am. You are good to me, friends.
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“Make it uniquely warm by my touch.” THAT is what makes the difference….our touch on each others’ lives. So good to hear you here….
I absolutely agree with you, Jody. That is the difference. Thank you for your presence here. You always bless me.
i smiled at the ending. thank you Ashley for your words here.
Thank you, dear Carol. I’m always a little surprised by the Five Minute Friday endings. :-) I do hope you’re finding some good spaces for writing. Sending love.
What a beautiful, reflective piece. The phrase “as she talks of faltering and failing and trusting, loneliness and clinging, and I see her, and I see me, too. How we are the same.” especially touched me. Thank you for sharing! (visiting from 5MF)
Thank you so much for visiting, Patti! Truly appreciative for your kind words.
That’s crazy that “same” is the word for today, I’ve been chewing so much on that word myself, when I was writing about my beakless chicken. ;) Yes, “uniquely warm in my touch” — spent the morning with another one who seems *sigh* “the same.” And yet, trusting that my time with her, praying over her, listening to her, might help warm her toward Christ…? Hope. Anyway, love this. And love you!
Thank you for hearing my heart through the words, Kari. I so resonate with your experience of the morning and your desire for your warm touch to express love and deeper, lasting hope to another. You are a gift.
Now…I’ve got to go read about that poor, beakless bird.
Love you and can’t wait to catch up soon!
Thank you, again and always. And please, if it’s possible to obtain
a print of the inspired painting, could you give details.
Thank you for being here, Mary. I’m sorry I don’t know what painting you mean. Elaborate. :-)
I’m sorry; it’s a photograph, probably yours, of the beautiful rock and leaf medley in water that heads your write-up today (9/ll). If possible, I would love to buy a copy.
Mary, it is mine. I’d be happy to send you an electronic copy for free (via email), trusting that you won’t be selling it all over the internet. :-) Would you like me to send it to your comcast email that appears here for me?
Lovely post; beautiful writing. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for your kind words and presence here.