this mama who sits exhausted and tired in the sun.
she hums over them as her hands gently place animals full of stuffing on pillows of potholders and napkins.
she tucks them in quiet and snug, kisses them softly and comes around that corner and whispers,
i need to tell you something.
and i know what it is she wants to tell me.
so i bend my cheek close to her lips and she seals me in with a kiss of her love.
she is so precious to me.
and i failed today...failed to speak words in the morning that would build them up strong throughout the rest of the day.
she finds me in the sunlight,
sad in the sunlight,
and reminds me how big true love can be.
mama, you have your quiet time. the monkeys just want to be near you.
and the coffee poured strong into a mug Christmas red,
held in my hands...
it warms from the core of me out.
and under the watchful gaze of a loved-worn monkey i open the pages to read the Words of the One Who loves this mama who fails.
caught in the light of the late autumn sun,
i pause in this moment...
in the black and the white of shadow and sun, He meets me.
and the peace that sinks down and surrounds and envelops this little home filled with little faces is full of expectancy.
He longs for me to seek Him, even more then i long for those few moments of a day when i can sit and learn from His Word.
He waits for those moments too...
He wants to meet me here.
and everywhere, every time can be here,
not just the sitting down times,
not just the folding laundry times,
or the kitchen aid times.
it doesn't have to be when i wait for that dark rich espresso to pour down.
i can meet Him in the car crashing times,
the sisters screaming at each other times,
the foggy-brain times from too little sleep.
here can be whichever moment you find yourself in.
and He is there.
He. is. here.
and i give thanks on this eighteenth day that finds me here...and for the moments that find me throwing up that white flag in surrender.
