Come Away
I remember all the times he came to my rescue; still does in fact.
Times when he showed up without my asking him, just to help with the day.
I remember how so often he’d show up almost immediately after I had asked for help.
In those times, I envision him running to me. Leaping over anything in his path and taking advantage of any jumping off point to shorten the distance between us.
I envision him leaping from mountain top to mountain top, skipping from hill to hill, faster than the wind. Faster than light.
I remember how he always arrived. Never out of breath; never needing time to recover.
He jumped right in on my project like it was the first of the day for him, but I knew it wasn’t. And while he helped me, he somehow made me feel like I was his best friend, had always been in fact, that he’d run the mountains again, any day, just to be with me and help me.
I think of the times he came running to me when I never asked him to. Times where it seemed like the thrill of being together lent urgency to his feet.
Those times were different. The times when I didn’t ask him to help me.
He stands there, right outside my house. I see him smiling at me through the glass windowpane of my door. He holds the door open, standing behind it; he invites me to go with him for the day.
He tells me of things he wants to go see; landscaping and gardens that are exquisitely beautiful. He tells me of wonderful meals we can share together. He says he’ll pay for everything. He invites me again to come away with him for a while.
But I stand inside my door.
I’d like to go with him. In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve refused him on such an offer.
It’s just that I have so much going at the moment.
Schedules that have been in place for over a year.
It’s tempting. I know I’d love a day off from all the stress. I know I owe it to him for all the times he has helped me. But I hardly feel like I can this time.
He waits a bit longer, smiling his welcome.
“Come away with me?” he asks.
Song of Solomon 2:8-13