Love like water

13528831_10204940333027385_7842712407627874115_nAfter a few under-the-weather and no-run/no-yoga days, I felt a little stir-crazy so I bundled up this morning for a short walk. Lately, I’ve been practicing listening to what is around me rather than all of the whizzing and zig-zagging thoughts which sometimes fill my head. Predawn Manhappiness was cold and quiet.

“Love like water.” 

I heard it as if Katie was beside me and telling me truths I need to hear.

“Love like water.”

This was not the chorus of waking snowbirds and train whistles I’d expected.

Quieting myself again with the crunch of snow underfoot keeping time with my pace. I heard it again.

“Love like water.”

With no one nearby to ask, I asked the God I cannot see “what does this mean?”
I can imagine. Water fills spaces. Replenishes dry and broken places. Sustains life and growth.

I don’t recall ever hearing that phrase before, but I must have.

More crunch crunch crunch. Someone swinging on the kids’ swings long before the sun rose, “wink wonk wink wonk wink wonk…”

My imagination seemed to wake up and I saw myself covering folks with warmth – warm blankets, warm coats, and awkward side hugs. I saw me offering love in covering and doing.

As I moved down Poyntz and closer to home, I had a sense of what it may mean to “love like water.”

Water is heavy. To lug it from spout to thirsty people requires commitment, muscles built, and the inevitable bucket bruising my shins and legs.

It means being tired.
Sharing what I have that is necessary to my survival, too.
Working to bring only life-sustaining fresh water and not polluted goopy sludgy water or water that appears clean, but is toxic.

Only the good stuff. The stuff that costs me more than an awkward side hug. Oy.

I do have an understanding of this love; learned as Madi, Kenan, and I grew up together.
My sister, Mimi, and her husband, Moe, love this way.
So do Katie and Dave; M3, and the Stevens of Monday night meal fame.

To love like water is less application and more integration…engagement.
Being still.
Not solving.
Sharing what I have.
Taking risks.
Walking beside.
Good old boundaries.
Not saving or even serving…just showing up.
“Be Here. Now.” kind of love.

I’ve done that with a fella, too. Climbed over fear and loved like water.

It’s the one thing I can learn to be brave and do more of, “love like water.”

I have no idea what it will look like to flow freely and unguardedly; wisely and not as a flood, but a conduit of fresh water for a world thirsty as in Dust Bowl days.

My little heart squinches at all which may be required of such a thing. But now that I know, I cannot return to less.

Would love to learn this with other peeps.
I’m sure there are pitfalls. I know there are pitfalls.

Every good and true thing requires derring do; of which I have a few small seeds watered by such people as I am privileged to know and love. And you never know what or who may be on their way to join us at the merry festive table of belonging.

To share our fresh water and his. I have no idea, but I am open.

A bit of music to take us home: Moon River, one of my favorite songs I learned from my Southern grandmum. Thanks Ma-ma.

4 thoughts on “Love like water

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s