But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.
O Israel, hope in the LORD from this time on and forevermore.
I like to think I know all the Psalms, but I can't remember reading this one before.
Of course it's short, so perhaps I lost it on a page turn. And I love its brevity, its compact nature, its littleness.
"My heart is not lifted up." It's right here inside me.
"My eyes are not raised too high." I've got my eyes on what is in front of me.
"I do not occupy myself with things too great and marvelous for me." I am looking at my reality, my real life, my everyday world.
And is there another place in the Psalms where the relationship of a mother and her weaned child is used as an image? I don't know one, though I may be wrong. The relationship is not one of survival, but it is still one of trust and love and dependence. What does it mean for the soul to be that weaned child, if I am the mother?
I guess it means the soul is still tender and in need of sheltering. I guess it means my soul needs her little feet washed. That's the truth for my soul this day.
How is it with your soul?
(The painting is Mary Cassatt's The Bath.)