"I'm losing my mind,"
    I said to the empty kitchen,
having no idea
    what I had come downstairs to do.
It likely had something to do with the kitchen,
    since that's where I ended up,
but for the life of me,
    I couldn't image what.

"That's not such a bad thing, really."
    I jumped when I heard her voice behind me–
Sophia, appearing, as she usually did,
    without warning or invitation.

"Good grief, you scared me!"
    I said.

"You really should be used to it by now,"
    she said, without apology.

"And you really should arrive…
    less abruptly," I said.

"Noted."

"Thanks."

"Welcome.
    And don't be too worried about your forgetfulness–
you're not losing your mind,
    only valuing it too much."

She left the kitchen
    and sat down in the living room.
I followed.
    "What do you mean,
valuing it too much?"

"What you think about things
    matters much less than you believe.
What matters is how things
    actually are,
and you're thoughts about them
    don't change that."

"How things are?"

"Yes,
    you have opinions about so many things.
Have you ever observed
    how much energy that takes?
And stress it adds to your life?"
    She picked up something from the rug:
"What's this?"

I walked over to look.
    "That's a stray cat treat."

"Let me call her," she said.
    She closed her eyes for a few seconds,
then opened them again.
    Within seconds,
Belinda came trotting down the stairs
    and over to Sophia.
"Here you go, sweetie," she said,
    giving her the treat.
Belinda crunched it contentedly.

I said,
    "How did you do that?
I heard nothing."

She shrugged and said, "I know.
    So…back to the mind."

"But…"

She ignored me and continued:
    "The mind can be a helpful tool, sure,
but you are not your mind.
    Your mind is not what makes you human.
With or without your mind,
    you are still a beloved child of God.
With or without your mind,
    you remain worthy of love.
With or without your mind,
    you are joined forever with God."

"But, without my mind…"

"You would still be known to God
    and would still know God–
not necessarily with words,
    but with a connection much deeper than words…
and perhaps more meaningful."

She could see me struggling with this.

"You are trying, even now,
    to grasp this with your mind.
Try receiving it with you heart."

I sighed.

"Maybe this will help:
    think of your friend Jules,
the one with Alzheimer's."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever sensed–ever—
    that Jules was not held by God?"

"No…"

"Have you any reason to think
    that Jules lacks a deep, real connection with God?"

"No, I haven't."

"Has it occurred to you
    that Jules may experience God,
moment by moment,
    more purely and immediately than you do,
because her mind doesn't get in the way
    as yours does?"

I nodded,
    tears welling up in my eyes.
"I have wonder that…
    and envied it."

Sophia stood,
    stepped toward me,
and gave me a hug.
    "Less mind, more heart," she whispered,
and I felt her body fade from my arms,
    leaving me with a loudly purring Belinda
and a sudden, unreasoned, unreasonable opening
    of my heart.

Text and image © 2020 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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