4. The Bottle

Respite Retreat: imaginative prayers of respite on the journey with God.

You have taken account of my miseries; Put my tears in your bottle. Psalm 56:8

To read in sequence go back to the first, 1. Respite Retreat (link below).

Settle into a quiet space and turn your attention to God and to your heart. Take a moment to ask God to meet you in this imaginative prayer.

My heart and body are nourished by the good food, the conversation, and comradery, and our chili bowls are empty now. Jesus abruptly places both hands on the table and stands up. “Now, it is time for dessert,” he emphatically exclaims. He turns to Pop, “I am so glad we created sweets!” 

Pop chuckles, “Aaaaah, but the best is sweet with a little bitter... or a little tangy... or a little

creamy!”

I lean back in my chair and just take it all in. Even here, talking about dessert, I observe such beauty and goodness.

“So there are three dessert choices in the kitchen tonight,” Pop informs us, “A dark chocolate brownie and vanilla ice cream, apple crisp, and key lime pie. And if we get one of each, we can share and taste them all.”

Jesus responds, “I love that. I will get them for us ...and some coffee too.” Jesus moves toward the kitchen, clearly on a mission.

Pop just chuckles for a moment, and then his expression softens, becoming more serious, tender even. 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.

“That is so beautiful!”

The ornate cut-glass catches and reflects the light, sparkling like a diamond. Curiosity stirs, and I ask, “What is in the bottle? Oil? Perfume?”

“Something more precious, dear one.” Pop hands the bottle to me, and I sense I have been entrusted with something fragile, certainly something valuable. I wonder at the mystery within as I turn the bottle in the light, so the fluid moves and reflections dance across the tablecloth. 

 “My bottle holds your tears.” He says quietly.

As I hear Pop's words, I lift my gaze to his eyes, and I remember the words in the Scriptures, ‘He collects my tears in a bottle.’(Psalm 56) The external world and internal reality are somehow intertwined before me in light, liquid, and a bottle. My pain, my lament, my sorrow is valued, treasured even. Something stirs soul-deep, and I can feel it. I absorb his words, and Ruah moves… tending my bruised heart, suturing and mending wounds, and healing my soul within me. My tears matter. It is an eternal moment.

Jesus returns with a large tray holding three desserts and three steaming cups of coffee. He pauses when he sees the glass bottle I am holding up to the light. “Oooooh! You showed her.”

Pop looks at me with a deep weighty smile, “It was something she needed to know.” And I hand the bottle back to Pop.