27 January 2011
a recipe for antifreeze.
sometimes the little fellow in my brain who heads up Constant Vigilance grows a bit sleepy, takes an early lunch. and just that quick, a solid freeze steals over.
when i forget to watch for God, alarming things transpire. my compassion numbs. my vision dims at the corners, vignetting till it’s nothing but cobwebby tunnels. i go about the routine of today: scrubbing, neatening, simmering, stitching, but my work clatters loud in the hollowed out spaces of me.
the truth is, loving long distance wears me threadbare. i think of our four year old rising and eating and playing and sleeping, day after day after month after year with nary a family in sight. it crumbles me so many times i grow tired of the breaking, i beg for the bleeding to stop.
and He hears.
God floods me with grace, buoys my heart in reserves of strength that i'm certain weren't there yesterday. and i remember this saving thing: that i just have to pray one more day, i just have to love right now. and if i do it this way, hoping one hour at a time, He will show up soon hand in hand with our littlest boy.
and what a sight that will be.
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[join us at emily's for more imperfect prose.]