we’re under blankets in our cold bedroom. joshua’s reading and i’m remembering the milkweed plant i saw in a garden at mazzy’s school.
we don’t know it but clouds are gathering right over our heads. we don’t know that we’ll wake up to snow and that right now a grey sky is being pulled up to cover like a down comforter. it’s beginning to warm this cold world with seasons that bring gathering and fires in their places and generosity.
i read up on the milkweed plant when i got home and found out that it’s the larval food source for monarch butterflies and their relatives. and that because of an explosive increase in american farmland the milkweed supply is disappearing.
sometimes kindness and generosity at the holidays can be in short supply, too.
family and forgiveness go hand in hand. and there’s always somebody to forgive who may or may not be sitting around the table this year.
maybe for someone, it’s me.
maybe for someone, it’s you.
i look over and interrupt joshua’s reading.
he hears me out and gives me a reasonable response. a true response. i know he’s right and sometimes the right thing to do is so close, dancing around my atmosphere, unable to be pinned down and lived out.
so i need to be brave.
i need to interrupt someone i think might know the answer.
it’s strange how we hide even the smallest things from one another, so sure it will make us look foolish or unfaithful or weak.
and so here is to the season.
a toast to the fools and the faithless and those brave enough to be weak. let’s feed on the milk of human kindness straight from the heart of a loving, generous god.
it’s the only food i know of that sustains the metamorphosis - the vulnerable bravery that turns insects into winged things.
gratitude list ~ one thousand gifts ~ 2231 – 2254
a morning off
chummy and the constable
letting god judge
clash of the titans
kids out in the snow
faith for the unbelievable
when fire is like water
friends coming for the holidays
bethany’s hand me downs
the splendid table