Cold frothy sinks into my new laces and aqua trim. I look away from the camera lens in time to see the wave’s sly recess back into the ocean, squish my toes in soppy socks. Turn back around to the row of sharpened pencil beaks sunning themselves on weathered wood, preoccupied with each other.
Frame the feathers. Open the shutter.
Sometimes it’s worth soaking in uncomfortable to capture contentment and peace.
I squat to see from another angle and motherhood rises in my throat. These birds, they often rest on one leg but this one, it’s different. That second knobby toothpick, it’s bent and balanced at an angle, trembling.
Pain blends in with the crowd. It takes time to notice it. Stop and look close. Love will tell you what to do.
I want to scoop that bird and hold it in my palm. But I know my good intentions will disrupt the flock. Camera dangles over my shoulder, keeping rhythm on my hip. I continue walking along the shore leaving imprints in the sand. Imprints to guide me back home if I don’t wait too long to turn around.
Sometimes compassion notices the pain and love keeps walking in trust.
I sit on pink and grey bricks to tie laces, walk down the quiet road lined maple and pine. Yellow and orange, they flutter above my bangs like crowds rushing to get out of a burning building. I stop to seize the glory haling golden in the ditch when I notice a towering presence standing in fingered light across the road.
He wears faded overalls and a ball cap. One hand rests on a knobby stick, while the other holds a long silver claw. He’s leaning at an angle, balancing on one side while tossing pinecones from the claw into a rusty wheelbarrow.
I want to help him but I’m invisible. And he is capable.
We all walk with a bit of limp, balancing the slanted world of what falls on the floor and creates a mess.
Stop and look close. He’s tilting the world so you can see straight. Love will tell you what to do.
Writing in community with Ann, Jennifer, Duane, Emily, and WLWW.
Sometimes we have to walk on past the things that we want to pick up, walk on with our limps into our destinies.
Yes, you got it. I had so many thoughts swirling around, not sure this conveyed what I intended. But sometimes obeying God means not doing anything, which is hard for we Americans.
A walk on the beach speaks wisdom into your soul.
Thank you for sharing it!
(And may I never be afraid of being uncomfortable for Compassion’s sake . . . )
Lots of metaphors at the sea Kelli. He teaches me lots on those walks. Thankful for you, and your kindness.
He’s tilting the world so you can see straight…. I’m taking this with me, friend. what a beautiful write…
I think sometimes we look at messes and throw our hands up when He’s really wanting us to see more clearly, hear him more clearly through it. It’s something I’ve been learning lately as we walk through a stressful season.
yes, “we all walk with a limp”…and grateful, Love shows us what to do…Thankful for your words and photos, Shelly 🙂
The beauty is all this is that God knows the heart, the desire to stop and help, heal, lift… God knows we can’t always be the good samaritan we desire to be, but it’s the heart that matters. I love your heart of gold Shelley.
The beauty ‘in’ all this… 😉
Yes, so thankful He looks at the heart and we can let go of trying to do good in order to be good. So thankful for your encouragement Debra.
“He’s tilting the world so you can see straight.” wow, I love what Jesus drops into your heart. I’m thinking more about how I need to tilt to see others straight……….pondering. Thank you.
For me lately, it is the messy side of life that gives clarity. It didn’t used to be that way but its helped me to think differently, because in all of life.
“Love will tell you what to do”
Timely words for me Shelly. You are such a woman of prayer. Gracious and compassionate.
Could you add my sister-in law’s name to your list as you pray?
Her name is Marianne. I will share more soon. Thank-you.
Celeste
Yes, I will add her to my prayers. I actually prayed for you yesterday so you have been on my heart. Look forward to connecting more later. Love to you.
“We all walk with a bit of a limp…” Yes. Yes. Yes. Thanks for the reminder and the grace of these words. A fresh breeze for my spirit tonight.
Thanks for being Cara, love it when you visit.
“Stop and look close, love will tell you what to do.” Absolutely beautiful and so true. Thank you.
Joy
Sometimes compassion notices the pain and love keeps walking in trust. this spoke so much to me. i tend to react too quickly sometimes, to try and save the world, when sometimes it just disrupts… love you friend.
You have such a generous, compassionate heart Emily. Love you friend.
sometimes love notices the pain and keeps walking in trust…..yes
and amen and beautiful and rich and sweet like dark chocolate.
thanks for tugging the tender from where it was stuck
in my heart this morning.
grateful,
Jennifer
I love dark chocolate, welcome the comparison. Love your comments Jennifer.