My Cup Runneth Over

As a kid, I had to memorize Psalm 23.

I heard sermons on sheep and shepherds, still water and pastures, dark valleys that felt like death, rods and hooks, and oil dripping down on beards (ick!). On being content, wanting nothing.

It’s one of the few things I can still recite.

But head is different than heart.

Sometimes I get ideas—well, daily—that just seem the right thing to do. I don’t know where they come from, but I know they must be followed.

I got the idea to send a gift to a friend who is starting life over in a foreign country, an asylum seeker.

So I sent off the gift.

When he received it, he wrote back.

And as I read his words of gratitude and friendship and struggle and faith, I felt my cup overflowing.

I actually felt it in my body. Not just thoughts about feelings but actually feeling the feeling.

These are the moments I live for.