Another Sabbath

This is what encouragement looks like, sometimes.

My brother picks me up for church. It is a wonderful surprise, a gift to spend time with him, to be next to him in this place that I love.

Pastor G talks about redemption. The service is refreshing and light hearted. And yet, he also talks about the secret believers, the cost, the sacrifice. I meet some new people.

My sister comes for lunch. We share pasta and salad. The pasta, my roommate made, the salad, my sister brought. It is a simple meal and simple is my favorite.

I sit in the sun at 5 o’clock. Spring is coming.

I lay my head in my sister’s lap and she rubs my back, and I rub hers. We exist, not having to entertain each other, just sitting on the couch, talking to roommates and with our brother as he types away on his homework.

I’m making chicken curry for supper.

I’m doing laundry at the Laundromat across the street.

I’m writing a poem called “Platonic.”

Have I mentioned the sun is shining?

I have poetry in my blood but I can’t see to get it out. I’m not troubled by this though. It will come.

Sundays. My soul rests.