I brought my “grandma” mug outside. It’s quiet. The cats are being cats, deciding which one is the favorite, staking their claim, one in a chair beside me, the other at my feet.

I remember my mama had her coffee on the porch. Soon, I’ll hear the sliding door open. My husband will wonder where I am.

Not cushioned in my morning chair in the corner.

Now the birds are strengthening the chorus of their choir, all the chatter becoming less harmonious.

Too busy, I softened the borders and the colors on a trio of paintings last week.

Now, they are more soft-spoken, their message more a hint than a demand.

Soon, I’ll not be hidden in the quiet place shielded by too tall hedges.

Last week, walking, I found a new explanation for my tendency to retreat, to isolate, to stay small and unnoticed.

Why the resistance is so strong in being seen, known, unhidden.

It’s because, I gave myself permission to accept, hiddenness is a skill set, a talent I finessed as a child.

Being hidden is a pattern I’ve perfected well.

But, less often even if difficult.

Deeply recessed is this go to behavior, a way to protect even though protection is not necessary.

I am safe. I am loved. I am not limited any longer by the required skill of self-protection.

I am safe. Salvation is my story.

Hidden and loved.

Noticed by God as I notice His Spirit in me.

Quietly seeking him in places that are hidden in a good way, the way called peace.

“But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭73‬:‭28‬ ‭ESV‬‬

I haven’t joined other writers in a while, been hiding there as well. Today, I’m linking up with Five Minute Friday here:

https://fiveminutefriday.com/2023/06/08/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-hidden/