I sit and drink tea on her balcony and she hears my heart. The leaves and trees are dust-covered — evidence of life in the desert. Birds noisily converse, talking about the day’s worms.
And she hears my heart. She asks the right questions, the ones that get underneath my words and sentence structure. At first it’s my mouth talking but soon after my heart begins to talk.
That’s what happens when our hearts are heard.
There is comforting encouragement and gentle rebuke. There is quiet challenge and sober reminder. There is humor and laughter, a call to not take myself too seriously. And the birds continue talking about the worms.
When our hearts are heard we can move forward, not in a defensive posture but in humility and service.
I get up early before the day break. I watch night turn to morning from my space on the couch. The leaves and trees are dying — evidence of life in winter. There are no birds, no chirping about worms – they’ve gone to a warmer place. I am alone. My cry is heard by God alone, human companionship is gone.
And He hears my heart. The sharp truth of His word gets into my brain. At first it’s just reading, but soon after a bridge connects that deep chasm between head and heart and I am changed.
There are times like the balcony – when God gives me that person who can keep step with me and help me make sense of my life, of my heart. There are other times like the couch when friends are absent, silent – but Truth keeps beckoning and my heart is heard.
The result is the same. I leave with my heart full — full of grace and hope, laughter and tears. Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed – that’s what happens when our hearts are heard.
And those birds just keep on chirping about worms.
Today may your heart be heard!