When it's all there and we won't take it
It's Saturday morning, and I'm waiting for my kid to take a break. He won't. He's too engrossed in what he's doing. I hear his empty stomach growl.
He's been at those toy cars and cards and books for two hours.
And the breakfast has been laid out for hours, up on the table above him, ready for the taking.
After a while he finally walks around the house moaning.
"Are you hungry?" I ask him.
"I'm starving! I haven't had breakfast!" He drapes himself over a chair, ready to die. This kid doesn't need acting school.
"It's on the table, as it always is on Saturday," I smile. "You just had to look up. Didn't you hear me calling?"
I too am always engrossed with what I have in front of my nose: relationships, work, play, life, the next thing.
Meanwhile there's this gnawing hole inside, increasingly hungry but strangely put on hold.
The banquet is laid out, ready for the taking. Will I look up? He's been calling for quite some time now, the Father. Thirst and hunger, ready to be satisfied in him.
Won't we all just take a break and get the meal we need?
"You satisfy me more than the richest feast. I will praise you with songs of joy." (Psalms 63:5 NLT)
(Five-minute Friday: Today's prompt was "break.")