we’re living in answered prayer.
i unpack boxes into space to breathe, into space large enough to house all five of these souls that a good god has decided is our family. i see my husband talk to me beneath a fifteen foot ceiling and i think, yes, we are finally in a space big enough to house his dreams and mine, too – and eventually theirs.
we walk in the lanes singing blue and scan the branches for readiness. they look picked over and finding the round ripe that is willing to fall into a hand with the lightest touch is few and far between.
but that’s why i’m here. that’s why i came. i want a bucket full of ripe, mature fruit from the minute i step down off of the hay wagon. but it doesn’t work that way.
fruit takes time.
i’m having a hard time remembering that life moves slower than we can imagine and that children grow up so fast it’s invisible. and i’m having a hard time remembering that god makes his own will come about and that i don’t have to make it up.
i only have to stay in communion with him.
how do you let yourself off the hook?
how do you let god be god and just give yourself a little time to let the sun shine down and to soak up the rain? the fruit isn’t coming off the vine before its time, now is it? i’ve forgotten again that it’s all a gift, all of it. everyone in the house and the house, too.
forgive me, lord.
gratitude list ~ one thousand gifts ~ 872 – 886
eleanor, the small
oil on the doorposts
still no internet
vacation this week
dining room turned beauty shop
abraham so quick to forgive
time to write
space to think
submitting to the day