Blog.

Sipping my coffee, I pull my bible out of my satchel and open the well-worn book, carefully navigating the crinkled edges and the torn page in the book of James. Handwritten notes and dates mark various passages like well-worn paths mark the landscape. I gently turn pages until I arrive at the familiar Old Testament story. Once again, I read the account of the disillusioned and worn-out servant of God.

He lifts his eyes to mine. “Daughter, I want to show you something.” He reaches into a leather satchel that I had not noticed hanging on the back of his chair and pulls out a glass bottle, like a small flask. He holds it near the oil lamp. The beauty and intricate design of the bottle is mesmerizing, and I can see clear liquid within it.

Pop serves himself and then leans toward me. His gaze is direct when he speaks, “Daughter, what do you want to ask me? No question is off limits. What do you want to ask, or what do you need to say? I am listening. I want to hear your heart.” My throat tightens, I swallow hard and try to focus, desperately working to suppress the wave of emotion that rises. Despite significant angst within, I recognize the significance of Pop’s invitation.