Dawdling, Dad would have called it. The times we shared over soapsuds, Mom and I.
But no. It was tarrying together. An important thing to do.
As I came to the end of the five-minute write about what made my mother mine, it flashed into my head (and oh, the wonder of it!): that it’s the same with my Love, my Lord. This is how I know I belong to Him, and that He is mine!
I share with Him what I share with no one else, and He can understand as no one else can.
He lets me know this. He tells me His heart, through the words of His love, his Letter, through repeating uncanny coincidences, and He presses the sense of it deep into my own heart…
This, I come to realize, is probably why so many have loved “In the Garden”…
They understand “…as we tarry there…”
“As we tarry.”
It was in the tarrying that we, Mom and I, saw each of ourselves as belonging to the other, ties of confidences binding soft, warm, and safe.
It is in the tarrying that I rediscover I am His, bound to His heart, dearly loved and safeguarded, and that He is mine.
May you find the precious time, friend, to tarry with the Lover of your soul today.