As the deer longs for the water-brooks,
so longs my soul for you, O God.
I wake from a nap disoriented and thirsty. Desperately thirsty. When was the last time I drank water, I think sluggishly as my brain tries to reconnect with the current reality. Synapse by synapse I cast lines as I climb from the befuddled depths.
Drinking water is so simple. And so necessary. And apparently so easy to dismiss. Like so many things, I know this. But I don’t do it.
My soul also is parched. I have pushed myself to respond without taking time to rest. Hence the unplanned nap. I know that I have more to give when I take to time to replenish my spirit. But I don’t do this either, succumbing to a misplaced value for endurance and doing it all.
When will I learn? How many times do I need to traverse the desert before I remember the importance of keeping my body and soul hydrated? Before I trust in God’s care of me enough to care for myself?
I head for the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water before I forget—or put it off again.
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