I arrived late to the location. The lobby was busy with the receptionist behind thick glass trying to resolve some frustration.

The client shifted his weight and I stood a few feet behind him, safe space, not intrusive or pushing my place as privileged over his.

I heard them in the next room, discussing points an orderly type talking. Points offered, cordial interruptions for insight, input and intent. Giving and taking type talking I overheard.

I began this initiative months ago and they haven’t let it go.

More an observer now, an interested participant, listening to discern my role.

“Kudos” to you all I had told them before, once, twice maybe more.

The receptionist caught my eye and asked if I was there for the meeting.

She pressed a button, the door clicked and I joined the discussion.

Admitted I’d been out of the loop and just hoping to get back in.

My presence was acknowledged and they nodded, said they were glad.

I gave input when it made sense. No less and no more.

Listened, participated, became aware of the direction of this collaborative group I began and then gave away.

It was freeing to listen.

To not be the leader.

To not be the chair in the center of the room or the one standing and speaking at the end of long table.

Yes, my roles are shifting. Yes, things are shuffling. Doors are closing, others are opening.

I doodled on my draft of bylaws, added notes next to revisions and bordered the bottom of the final page.

God is good.

God has been good.

God will be good.

My prayers are being heard.

My load is less heavy, my heart is in the rhythm of a stroll, a walk alongside my burden bearer and shared, my redeemer.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.””

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11:28-30‬ ‭

The humble one who hears me pray, words or no.

This morning, I found prayer to be my tool. I was warned of the noises, the drill, the rooting of my tooth’s canal.

I began with the 23rd Psalm and repeat, repeat, repeat. Moved to other prayer, better, better and finished with a little talk with God about the good doctor.

Calmer then, calm and settled I’d acknowledged his abilities and thanked God for them, moved to whatever mysterious concern for himself or his family and I asked God to come near, shine through, to make His ways to him known.

All good then, all done.

Driving home, I thought of the simple things.

The givens of God.

Believe, trust, love, learn.

Pray.

Repeat.