the life you ask us to lead is too hard, Jesus. i don't think i can do it. do You see how often i fail?
and He saw it, in the early hours of this morning,
how i became impatient and spoke harshly and brushed aside what seemed important to them but not so important to me...
i saw the slump in olivia's shoulders,
elias' disgruntled sigh.
and He saw it too.
i had read it in again the other night, that passage on love and traded that word for my own name,
kimberley is patient,
kimberley is kind...
and i was neither or any of those things on this morning that even a coffee couldn't save.
dust dusts dust,
and as the cloth becomes blackened with the remnants of our life lived this week,
my heart grows heavier.
what's the use in trying when what is learned in the dark can't be put into practice once dawn arrives?
i stand at the counter slicing through leafy green lettuce and ruby red tomatoes as the dinner hour approaches.
i pull out my little black moleskin with the pages pasted in,
the ones that paul wrote to the colossians to encourage and strengthen,
the ones i'm trying to know fully in mind and heart by the time 2013 rolls in.
i flip it to week 9 and begin to whisper the words over grated cheese,
He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together...
and the grating slows as His answer to my broken prayer comes like a balm over all those raw places..
the life He asks me to live really is too hard for me to accomplish.
He is asking the impossible of the ones that choose to follow Him,
because it is only in Him that the weak become strong,
the foolish become wise,
the broken are held together,
and as their small tummies are filled,
my heart begins to overflow...
1318. those pussy willows on my kitchen table
1319. that fresh snowfall outside
1320. the surprise of a shoveled walk and drive
1321. 4 extra children in this house
1323. the laughter in this house
1324. that amaryllis shoot
1325. the green flecks in tony's eyes
1326. the hope of spring
1327. those tears she cries
1328. freshly bathed children
1329.the smell of fresh baking in my hair
1330. little sleep
1331. whispering i'm sorry in the early hours
1332. those tears that release grief
1333. the bottom of the laundry pile
1334. that smile at the end of the millionth time-out
1335. quiet moments of starbucks - just me and that chai
1336. those dry and brittle leaves
1337. those goldfish scattered across the floor
1338. the love of a father for a daughter