Seven Point Four Billion

Crickets are singing in the fields. Cicadas chant tonight in Franklin County.   I walked the grounds while water buckets filled for tomorrow's heat.  It's still warm outside so near to dark. 

 I threw some grain for gathering goats while lightening bugs lit up an empty field behind them.  It felt ancient and I felt small. Seven point four billion people breathing in and out on earth tonight, and then there's me.  

Sweat gathered under the folds of my upper arms as I walked and waited for the watering.  I walked thinking about the heat and how I'm half way through my collective summer times, and half way through my winters, and springs, and half way through my days here.  I'm half way through and I still don't know how many commas to use and I am not sure how many words to write about it all.  There are some 7.4 billion people on earth, and then there is me sitting right here. 

My dog was waiting inside for someone as if the most important of all 7.4 went missing.  My dog was waiting for me.

I turned off the water and admired the shiny, summer coats of the goats in the dimness of the hot air.  I remember they are most radiant when the grass is green, the days are long, and the summer sun is sharp and sure. 

Seven point four and me breath in and out tonight, and what does it all mean? 

Morning glories sprung up from fallen seed in the yard again this spring.  I allowed them to grow onto the porch again simply by ignoring their ascent, simply by allowing their reaching.  Now I want to see what they will do!  They twist tendrils round and make their way up the chairs.  I cannot bring myself to stop them because I am reaching too-- connected in the "Vine".

They seem so sure of where they are going, so determined in their daily stretch.  They pulled clear up the legs of the chairs and pushed out a few vibrant, purple blooms in obvious triumph!  How I admire their ever expanding vines! How I admire the sureness of where they are going!

And now it is time to sleep, and I tuck in among my questions and thoughts about my reaching.  I rest easy in the wondering with 7 billion others. I am just one, but I am dearly loved, like you, like all. 😊  I close my eyes without all of the answers in their place and realize how completely fine that this is for now in this summer night in July.  

Don't be mad at me about the commas. ;)

Nighty-night.

What Have You Done With Introverted Me?

On the street you look at me and I look back at you. In your car, across the intersection I see you and I wonder.  On the street I see you walking there, and groups of people making their way to somewhere. They would be mine, if they were His, all the people  in one family. 

 I see the people and I long for connection.  Who are they, each one? What do they like?  Do they laugh at the dining room table as they eat a meal? Do they tell stories, do they cook? Do they like to read, or write?  I see the worn man, tattered and torn walking briskly along the road.  Could he be my brother?  Is he funny?  What are his dreams?  I want to know them all. Yes, it's me the introvert, yes, me the fearful one.

I see them on the street and I see the family that could be mine.  I pass by the woman sitting, watching her son swim in the community pool and I want to know her.  She may be someone's sister, someone's cousin. Why can't she be mine, my family?  I want to know who she is and what wonderful things she knows and does.  

I see them on the streets, in their cars, in the windows at restaurants and browsing in clothing stores and I know they are meant to be His and in turn, they'd be mine.  We would all be family.  

If I continue to think this way maybe I will be hurt.  Maybe they will not want Him, maybe they won't want me, or a big, forever family.  But maybe they do.  It really could be.  Maybe I could ask and see.

Lord, what have You done with introverted me?