restorer of lost voices

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And He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself. Luke 10: 27 NASB

Winter was long gone. One lonely seed was dropped and forgotten, but she bloomed tall and lovely. She’s an unexpected planting of sunlit-warmth in a sea of fragrant mint-green. I consider the months that flew by since my husband fed the ravenous birds, and our Heavenly Father planted the seed. I’d been so busy that I hadn’t noticed what stood with grace and dignity. She’d dared to be different.
Even though, I’d weeded the week before, the herb garden was messy again; the mint persisted. It spread through the chives, oregano, and newly planted thyme, as if to crowd and stunt their growth. I pulled some pesky thistles, unwanted grass and clover, and then cut the fragrant leaves to make my favorite Southern Sweet Tea. Summer would soon depart; even so, it was my first boiled bunch. What else had I missed in my hurry?
While I worked, I considered my question. My thoughts intertwined with the sultry heat at sunset, the whiff that rose with the steam, and sacred conversations that lingered in the shadows of my past. My silent reverie was broken by my rattled ice and refilled glass—and the shift to hide my pang of hurt. However, the making of Sweet Tea, Southern hospitality, and friendship couldn’t be ignored. And I was reminded of the memoir that I couldn’t set down.
If you’re looking for a good read, consider once we were strangers by Shawn Smucker. It’s about the author’s friendship with a Syrian refugee, and how he learned to love his neighbor. The following are some of my favorite quotes:

* The stories of other people are always hidden from us at first, waiting in the shadows.
* Communicating with each other is a determined act, a kind of fighting against the darkness.
* We sit quietly for a bit. This is something he is teaching me—a willingness to sit quietly with my friends, a willingness to let time pass without feeling an urgency to fill it with noise.
* Again I consider the nature of friendship. Again, I reflect on how busy I have become, how rare it is that I see the people I call friends. I think about where we’ve gone wrong, how we’ve ended up in this place where we make such little time for the people who mean the most to us, where we have almost no time for the people in our communities who need a place to sit and talk. A place to reflect on what it is they’re missing. Is friendship vanishing? Sometimes it feels that way, like we are all so busy, like we are all moving farther and farther apart.


The lonesome desert trek was necessary. A dusty whirlwind kicked up debris and desires. Like the refugee, I was also thirsty for the familiar. But I couldn’t return the way I came. My home was now elsewhere . . . And in the silent and uncomfortable places, where broken bits and pieces connected, understanding dawned and peace settled in. God had taught me to open my heart wide, to be present, and intimacy had begun to brew.
We must be intentional about friendship. The soil is rich and ready. Come close. Let it be messy.
God may plant us in an unexpected place, and we think we’re there to support others. Instead, we receive far more than we could imagine or gift.
Dare to be different. Love God with your whole heart, soul, and strength.
And love your neighbor as yourself.

Lily Mae