What day is it? I'm not sure.
This day and some others I am grateful for salt.
A simple combination of elements. It's harvested from the sea.
Warm and salty broth that restores little healing bodies after being emptied out in the most horrible ways. Bowls of comfort and restoration, bringing color back to cheeks, sparkle to eyes, life to demeanor.
Sprinkled in my bath to soothe aching muscles from nights of holding hands and heads and wiping mouths, floors, brows.
Sodium bicarbonate sprinkled on carpets, in laundry, in the dishwasher. Working its simple magic and drawing out odors and germs from things soiled with illness.
The salt of my tears that fall from exhaustion, from worry, from inadequacy. I taste them and I'm grateful that I care enough to cry. That I try hard enough to fail. That I have the energy left to keep moving.
The grains of salt with which I take the things my upside down brain tries to convince me are true. The good and the bad, you know. I remember to salt my words to myself and both give myself a break and try to do better.
The crunch of salt in my little treat to myself - salted caramel hot cocoa. Decadent and unexpected. Delicious and necessary. It's my personal reminder to rest and to savor the beautiful, rich things in life that can be so simple and so satisfying.
And this salt. The salt of the words I try to live by:
"You are the salt of the earth...You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden, nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others..."
This day and some others I am grateful for salt.
A simple combination of elements. It's harvested from the sea.
Warm and salty broth that restores little healing bodies after being emptied out in the most horrible ways. Bowls of comfort and restoration, bringing color back to cheeks, sparkle to eyes, life to demeanor.
Sprinkled in my bath to soothe aching muscles from nights of holding hands and heads and wiping mouths, floors, brows.
Sodium bicarbonate sprinkled on carpets, in laundry, in the dishwasher. Working its simple magic and drawing out odors and germs from things soiled with illness.
The salt of my tears that fall from exhaustion, from worry, from inadequacy. I taste them and I'm grateful that I care enough to cry. That I try hard enough to fail. That I have the energy left to keep moving.
The grains of salt with which I take the things my upside down brain tries to convince me are true. The good and the bad, you know. I remember to salt my words to myself and both give myself a break and try to do better.
The crunch of salt in my little treat to myself - salted caramel hot cocoa. Decadent and unexpected. Delicious and necessary. It's my personal reminder to rest and to savor the beautiful, rich things in life that can be so simple and so satisfying.
And this salt. The salt of the words I try to live by:
"You are the salt of the earth...You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden, nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others..."
