Friday, December 10, 2021

Sit with me here, on this bench. We need not speak – you need not answer. Friends sit silently together all the time.

Worry will drip into a puddle at my feet. Tension will fly up and out of my shoulders. My belly will relax and I will breathe with these.

Will my presence heal you, too? You are my companion, Lord. Let me be yours.

(Letter #2,526)