bare feet.

the faint lingering bits of 
psoriasis and football dirt 
stuck to the bottoms 

of his and her 

bare feet. 

parked on our coffee table 

his black shirt on backwards 

the little square pocket 

stuck to his deltoid 

as humorous evidence.

she nursed a glass of white 

and he cradled a red 

time slowed down 

and no one was in a rush to 

go anywhere. 

we filled our bellies with 

tikka masala and korma,

bits of basmati escaped our lips 

and landed next to our plates. 

he asked earnest questions, 

how do you make a curry?

what is that sharp cinnamon taste?

tell me about fitting your skin into 

the culture you came from 

but having to find it for yourself. 

she encouraged me with her words 
as well as her fingers, 

reaching for a second and third helping 

of my food heart 

and scooping it on her plate. 

my husband made sure glasses were full,

busying himself with

after dinner french press 

as he too shared of heart, ministry, 

and courage under fire. 

they both know of this well, 

having lived and breathed ministry 

and all that enfolds 

for years rolled up into 

more years. 

there is much to learn from them. 

i thought many times to myself 

surely they must have places to be, 

more pertinent matters 
than here, 

but as he slowly rubbed the knot 
in her shoulder, 

it was communicated that 

this here, 

at our kitchen table 

is where they were purposed to be. 

i tucked that warmth in my 

heart of hearts. 

it was more restful than i thought 

it might be. 

i thought in my weakness, 

i would be encumbered with the 

need to perform, 

or fear that a hair would be 

found in the food,

or something stupid would slip from 

my mouth [as it usually does] 

but i was reminded softly 

they are sweet, broken human beings, 

just as we are, 

they are made from soil 

just as i am

and this was a time set aside 

for genuine fellowship, 

laughter, 

and sharing of
the richest shalom.

i had told them this was free, 

no expectations, 

did i truly believe that?

i did.
as the evening wore on 

the sun went down, 

the cool of the evening slipped in 

through the screen door

as we talked, 
listened, 

laughed, and 
sipped some more.

i won't soon forget this gift. 

of time. 

of friendship.

of two people whom we love and respect 

[never learning enough at their feet]

lavishing a 

kind and kindred love 

on us so eagerly and freely

bare feet and all...