I sweep up tid bits of paper into piles. The paper Hopey cut up into scraps to stuff into her teacups and heap onto her plastic pink plates to feed her babes.
I need fed, too.
Everybody’s hungry. There’s bread that nourishes bodies and bread that nourishes souls. The latter consists of God-words, the kind we get when we open up His Word and He pokes it down our eager out-stretched necks like a momma bird who feeds her young.
Lord, fill us up. Satisfy the hungry-hearted. We open our mouth wide.
The sky is gray. The air is cold. The leaves, they change.
I dump out cold coffee from my favorite cup. The sink is dirty. And somehow God is here in all this gritty dreariness.
I’m warm inside but I think about the poor out in the streets somewhere, huddled up against brick walls, away from wind. I pray for them as my babes build a tent and hide beneath the table.
Lord, be our home. Our dwelling place. Make us fervent, and use us to warm the world. Animate us with Your love.
The baby cries and I scoop him up because he quietens when he’s held. We dance in the kitchen, my arms sore from all the holding, but I think they’re growing stronger.
Lord, hold us now. Hold us in Your arms and dance, for the world, it spins. Our worries dissipate and all our striving ceases when we are held.
I make beds and fold laundry and craft words and have conversations and spend this day with God. I fish a stray sock from a house plant and laugh at the mess and murmur prayers. I train my mind to contemplate my Maker. I train my eyes to see Him in all things.
Lord, You said I would have perfect peace if I kept the eyes of my heart on You. I’m finding it true. May all these words from my mouth and all these ponderings of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, oh Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer.
