Thirsty. Like when the room is dark but the alarm clock glows green. And it’s three-something a.m.; minutes tick by, rapidly.
My mind races rapidly and I swallow hard and remember that I am thirsty. Out of bed; into the kitchen. Not wearing my contacts and the light is off, so when I pour water, it splashes. Half on the counter, half into the glass. The water is cold and wet and clean and just what I craved. Quenched.
No solution for a racing mind, but what a solution for thirst.
Thirsty. When I snap and the snark comes a little too easily and the sarcasm drips. When I look around at my world full of blessings and see a world full of bleh. When compassion doesn’t come naturally. When I’m snippy and I say things I don’t mean and think things I don’t mean and that thirst is obvious. Oh, so thirsty for this grace, this redemption, this God.
Thirsty – when everything but my heart is full. Calendar, mind, sink, to-do list, refrigerator, closet, purse, desk, files, gas tank. Full, overflowing sometimes.
My heart is empty and so thirsty. Forward I go, to the One who fills my cup.