So I follow PocketFuel on Instagram. I love their quotes, thoughts, pictures. Often they are not really what you want to hear, but it’s words that speak truth and honesty.
“The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful, a puzzle that no one can figure out. But I, God, search the heart and examine the mind. I get to the heart of the human. I get to the root of things. I treat them as they really are, not as they pretend to be.” (Jer 17:10 MSG).
We judge people on a surface level: Social media feeds, community demographic, personal economics, test scores, contribution, image… you get the idea. But God dives beyond the surface straight to the heart. Because he knows that if we can get our hearts “right,” our actions will follow.
It’s not that our hearts are good or evil. That’s not the question. History tells us that the human heart has the capacity for both. The more interesting, life changing question is:
How do you keep a soft heart in a hard world? And can our soft hearts mend the brokenness within and around us all?
Soft hearts. In a hard world.
I don’t know how that works. I just know that all I can do is not lock it up. Even though it’s scary, painful and vulnerable. Sharing is the only thing that will keep my heart alive. At some point today I just took a moment to feel my heart beat. To feel that I am alive. I took a deep breath, let it all out and pressed my thumb into my wrist.
A soft, but steady rhythm.
The world is a hard place. Yet I get to be alive in it. Live it. Every heartbeat is a gift.
I don’t deserve it. It’s just given to me. The soft, steady rhythm that promises me that there is life. There is hope. I sigh again. I let the breath softly cool my thirsty dry mouth, cool my lips and fill my blocked and stuffy nose again.
Argh. I am annoyed by that blocked nose to be honest. I am tired. Should do my day 6 yoga abs thingy today, but I just feel like skipping. I bought myself chocolate for the first time since I got to Uganda. A big bar of brown chocolate. Which I actually might convert into brownies tomorrow.
So instead of all that I wanted to do. I swept my floors. Warmed up some leftover soup and watched the sunset. From orange to pink to red to purple to blue to dark blue to black.
I take another breath. The air comes out through the one nostril that isn’t blocked. I place my thumb on my wrist. I am alive. Today is a good day to be alive. Counting my plusses and my Blessings.
Learning to trust that steady rhythm of my soft heart.