The Cistern

Loving God is a mystery, since we are That. Colossians says, “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” That is inscribed on our daughter’s gravestone. There she lay at age seven, me age thirty-five. A lifetime of sorrow stretched before me.

Flash forward twenty plus years and I am standing by the grave of my husband. He lies next to our daughter. I know I have to go on. I also know that he asked me to find my passion before he died and this is it.

I write and write and write, as I walk and walk and walk the path back home to the heart. The path IS the heart, of that I have no doubt. But the journey is a spiral one for us all. Have compassion for you never know who is about to break under a heavy load, who is carrying their cross and thirsting.

How do you slake another’s thirst? There is only one way that I have discovered. You can give them living water collected drop by drop from the cistern that has become your heart. You do it by being it. You are it; you have just forgotten it. Once you remember, the water gushes forth of its own power and you are just the witness.



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