An old soul isn’t born or bred, but rather recovered.

Its path is rarely soft and its journey oft seems perilous. That said, an old soul is held loosely with an effortless grasp. Almost a common possession more than a part of one’s self. A favored shirt or a worn bill fold.

An old soul is not displayed but only discovered. Almost a treasure unearthed in early friendship. It is no wonder that an old soul is oft found guarded by loved-ones as if a sacred flower or secret spring.

An old soul may be quick but is not fast. An old soul is at times youthful but never trite.

An old soul is faithful and trusting, holds joy with a grieving hand, giving praise with gentle caution.

Finally. An old soul is always someone else’s never our own. Unearthed in the search for the kindred never in the search for self.

I wonder at times what part of God’s triune life together, the finding of an old soul reflects. Perhaps the gift of an enduring friendship that spans longer than time has actually afforded. Perhaps a glimpse at an abiding fellowship that will certainly endure.

Originally written July 2015 and published in a Service Bulletin I believe.  Moderately revised October 2019.