Solitude
Dirty clothes lie in heaps around her. The floor is coated with the recent storm-blown dust. Bread must be made, vegetables picked up from the market. She had spent half the night up with a feverish child, cool cloths on his forehead, prayers for his safety.
She should really go fill the water jug at the well. She needs a nap.
But with the hour or so of time gifted by her husband, she decides to go for a walk.
Outside her dimly lit dwelling, the sun shines hot. The air smells of last night's catch of fish. The cries of children echo on clay walls.
Palm trees waving outside city walls tell her of a coming breeze.
She knows her destination. A fifteen minute walk through olive orchards. It would be cooler up there. It would give her perspective.
She walks quickly, anticipating the fresh air and the glimpse of late afternoon sun on golden temple walls.
Upon entering the garden, she smiles at its shade and pleasant smells.
She closes eyes, drawing in a full breath of healing, rejuvenating, hint-of-rose air.
And when her eyes open, she sees his figure, kneeling, bent over a large rock, praying aloud.
She doesn't want to disturb and begins to retreat, but He senses her presence and turns.
She is frozen, uncertain. He is tired, but smiles comfort. He beckons her to come closer. They talk.
About the weather. Then about her husband and kids. About her needs.
He listens. He encourages. He loves.
He knows she needs to get back to the business of life that awaits, but He reminds her to come back and talk again anytime.
She will.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6sXjciY8qbPykIGy4NYx7EicLOC1o3wY_y28xIFnscDuBOXBf1rPLUj3EKTe4d4N7h4Oavdla45qCCKwAky7EHtWhsiM3P51lkIFQkPAPPPOaBO5UC5dFOPQ_Ho1lGdfBAWuWlQJWoo/s1600/flower.jpg)
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She should really go fill the water jug at the well. She needs a nap.
But with the hour or so of time gifted by her husband, she decides to go for a walk.
Outside her dimly lit dwelling, the sun shines hot. The air smells of last night's catch of fish. The cries of children echo on clay walls.
Palm trees waving outside city walls tell her of a coming breeze.
She knows her destination. A fifteen minute walk through olive orchards. It would be cooler up there. It would give her perspective.
She walks quickly, anticipating the fresh air and the glimpse of late afternoon sun on golden temple walls.
Upon entering the garden, she smiles at its shade and pleasant smells.
She closes eyes, drawing in a full breath of healing, rejuvenating, hint-of-rose air.
And when her eyes open, she sees his figure, kneeling, bent over a large rock, praying aloud.
She doesn't want to disturb and begins to retreat, but He senses her presence and turns.
She is frozen, uncertain. He is tired, but smiles comfort. He beckons her to come closer. They talk.
About the weather. Then about her husband and kids. About her needs.
He listens. He encourages. He loves.
He knows she needs to get back to the business of life that awaits, but He reminds her to come back and talk again anytime.
She will.
"Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile." Mark 6:31 New Living
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG6sXjciY8qbPykIGy4NYx7EicLOC1o3wY_y28xIFnscDuBOXBf1rPLUj3EKTe4d4N7h4Oavdla45qCCKwAky7EHtWhsiM3P51lkIFQkPAPPPOaBO5UC5dFOPQ_Ho1lGdfBAWuWlQJWoo/s1600/flower.jpg)