slow thaw {just write}

There was a hardness, my heart caged heavy in ice. And I'd secretly wished for a shattering rescue, a cracking apart, an exaggerated transformation, something to startle me out of this numb, dreamless stare.

But what He's doing now, it's nothing spectacular, just a bit of warmth here and there, the breath of truth telling friends. And I feel the slow melt, the drip, drip, drip, until my heart lays bare and beating.

It took months, not minutes.

I know it's time to lay down arms, to call an end to this subtle rebellion of seeking Him second or third or not at all. So I do, knowing full well this truce might not last till Thursday.

And I begin again to believe, not just on paper but in life. To believe that even just for one minute out of one day out of one year, He could be enough to satisfy, to temper the ache, to feed the desperate hunger.

There are puddles now where the ice was once thick enough to walk across, and a faint smell of spring. Maybe what He's doing now, maybe it's spectacular, after all.