I woke up this morning with my heart and spirit feeling even more open and squishy than usual. Rather like a lobster having just shed its shell. On days like these, it’s as though I hover just below the surface of a good cry. Not sorrowful tears, but the sort that are born of an overflowing of what’s inside. Like there’s just not quite enough room in this little body for all that is welling up. I’m not even sure how to name it. Love, maybe, like the Agape version I learned about in Sunday School? The kind that is for everyone and everything. It hurts just a little, but with that sort of light, persistent tug that comes just to let you know it’s there.
A Love River at Flood Stage
