finding a thoughtful spot in a house full of people isn’t easy.
and yesterday i really needed to think about nothing. everything.
like how my days as of late are delicately balanced between taking care of all of the needs of the vibrant young people here and visiting a fragile little woman who is very near the end of her life.
a woman who has sadly lost her words.
when all i seem to have are words.
floating through my head day and nite.
in the form of thoughts. dreams. sighs.
mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.
and yet i can’t really seem to find the right order for them either.
hence my absence for the past *gasp* 6 days.
i’ve changed this post title 4 times.
forgive me for rambling.
being so close to death does strange things to a person.
i’ve seen the numbers on the machines go up and down. beeping loudly. annoyingly.
i’ve felt her grip. as she struggles with understanding this process that is happening to her body.
that knowing . gnawing. grip that one has when the sands of time are running out.
refreshed. i return home and ferociously grip the ones that i hold so dear.
putting my own needs aside. i can paint my toenails another day.
that’s what flats are for, right?
they need me.
behold the handmaid of the Lord.
and so on tired. bended knee i fold clean towels. 8 hail marys in one load of towels. i walk to the bathroom to put them away. that’s another. and out again. that is the tenth.
be it done unto me according to THY word.
i say that at least a few times a week.
but stubbornly the words don’t always process very well.
and frankly, His will scares me sometimes.
eyes of mercy….
i am ever so grateful to have an intercessor who was a mother too.
a mother who had a sword pierce her heart.
a heart that beat solely for HIM.
do i dare expect anything different or easier for myself?
a poor. banished child of eve.
life. sweetness. hope.
things aren’t so bad.
the leaves are falling. a store clerk gave me 4 old metal baskets(which i have been needing so badly to organize my craft supplies). i found 3 hardcover nancy drew books and 2 vintage quilt tops at a yard sale.
in fact, things are good.
as always, i am just being overly sentimental.
(so i am off to change that title one more time…and scrounge up something pitiful to feed my hungry children)
really, all i do is cook.
and all they do is eat.
this should’ve been a cooking blog.