I’m a fan of phrases, a few not several words strung together that I can remind myself of.

Maybe write in sharpie like a tattoo on my arm. Praying this morning, I was thinking speculatively. I was afraid of something going wrong.

I said three, maybe four times in my solitary prayer…

“You’re a healer, not a harmer”.

Less than an hour passed and my mind went to the loss of my mother. A loss I’d just heard about, cancer being its ugly self.

And a friend who thought she’d told me the timeline of her husband’s death and I listened; oh, how I listened.

Her pauses were peace giving, her recall was resonant. I listened to the telling she thought she’d already told.

Knowing somehow each telling made her and her captive listener more strong as well.

So, I thought about my morning declaration:

You heal, not harm. Lord, you are a healer not a harmer.

And I just spoke it over myself

Over and over

And over.

Strengthening my believing muscles grown weak from the realities of human struggle and unfortunate sorrow.

I went for a walk, barely missed the storm and answered a text from a neighbor who said they’d seen me walk by.

They were checking on me.

I was seen.

I am seen.

Have been all along and always will be and this is truth that builds strength that will stay.

Knowing we are seen

That’s a strength that will remain.

That and being a listener who is also a learner and who longs to strengthen the teller of their story.

To bend down, to pause, to be compelled to understand.

To listen like a believer.

To listen like Jesus.

“Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭116‬:‭2‬ ‭NLT‬‬