{This post is part of the five minute friday with Kate Motaung. A community of writers who write for five minutes on the word of choice. Today's word: empty.}
I'm
not sure how old we were, but we were little, and it was back in the sweltering heats of
the south in a house that had a backyard that, to me, was a maze of
shrubbery and bushes. As little as we were, we could easily get lost
in the forest of green, pretending days away, and we loved it.
It was back when Dad was working nights and early mornings and our days were spent hushed and somewhat quiet, but we didn't mind.
It's a wonder how you can just close your eyes and remember and still be able to recall certain houses and places and people even though the years were long ago and far gone. The minds never completely empty of all that's passed.
I remember those almost empty cupboards and saltine crackers with peanut butter, if my memory serves me right. The only reason I can recall that meal was because a spider happened to drop down from the ceiling right in the middle of the table and I can remember how me and my sister screamed and jumped back, smiling.
That almost empty cupboard also held some living life and when Mom had gone to open it a huge cockroach flew out of it and landed close to her, and if I think real hard I can almost see it and her and how much she disliked it.
But somehow it was always enough, and nothing was never too empty for too long and we were always filled up with something.
That's how it all is, never knowing what a day will hold, always waking up somewhat empty, looking to be filled, searching for the good and the glorious and the hopeful and it almost always starts simple and always inside.
Life can look bleak, uncertain, unknown, but the glory of it all is the grace of the cross and the mercy that meets us there at the foot of it all, right by his pierced side.
What makes it all good in the end..when suffering brings the saving and we can never be too empty if we're filled with Him whose never ending.