It's three o'clock on a sunny afternoon, and telling steam still rises from a newly drained cup of coffee. It's a two-cup kind of day.
We spent all morning at dentist's appointments followed by errands, which makes two times in five days that the children and I have spent hours downtown. And because I had to take Zeke in for x-rays a week ago, I've been to town four times in just over a week. Considering that in the winter we leave the house for something other than church only about once a month-- sometimes less-- that's too much time running about.
I'm recovering by staring at my hands as I type. They're pale all over and purple with cold in spots, and they look older than I remember. The skin is dry and a bit chapped from winter air and washing dishes. A few scars from childhood stand against the surface-- barbed wire from Grandpa's cow pasture marks the left; barbed wire from the horse pasture marks the right. Rusty wire and I have a history, to which my legs and arms also attest.
So I'm tired and a bit loopy. While the girls tidy the detritus of play, turning houses back into blocks and packing whole villages and populations into cupboards, I type who-knows-what while staring at ten white fingers.
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Hours later, I return to delete those paragraphs. They weren't even worth writing, let alone throwing into the internet like a gnawed-on bone. I need reminders that shout, that drown my self-absorption and smallness, to sink them so deep they can't ever find their way home or to hurl them so high they wheel off the outer, orbitless edge.
I am glad to be John's best friend and very own wife. I am blessed to be the mother of joy-filled children. I am grateful to wake in the night to the thumps and stretches of a baby within, exploring the dark, warm cave like a silver-tailed fish.
These are more than enough to fill a heart. I'll toss the rest out the window to catch like the rags they are on brambles I leave behind.
Why was Zeke having x-rays?
ReplyDeleteClearly-not-concerned-Titi
I love that, "exploring the dark, warm cave like a silver-tailed fish." It makes being inside a belly sound so very comfortable.
ReplyDelete- Debbie
Ditto Debbie. That is just the phrase that struck me too.
ReplyDeleteYou are a poet.
And even "those" days, that make you stare and groan and heave heavy sighs are important, good days. They bring you closer and draw you into the only true, real source of Strength to be found.
The flinging, too, is important- but so are the sighs.
I know you have been very, very busy and how you write it as poetry is a talent I do not own. Yes, loving husband and precious children are definitely, poetry in motion and a gracious blessing from God. Prayers for continued strength and blessings!
ReplyDeleteI ask as Titi has - what happened to Zeke?
Much love!
Thank you for not deleting. Most days I want to live life filled with vibrant, joyful thankfulness, but in truth there are those days when it all seems so very difficult. I love that you have kept it real here so I don't feel alone! Oh and I think we are about the same age (34) which means you are certainly not old :).
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful day!
Blessings
Renata:)
My writing is confusing. I actually did delete several paragraphs, right where that handy white line sits. :) I had gone on to loosely relate some raw spots better left unshared and then wrote about how these "struggles" would vanish if God brought me to a place of true struggle. My struggles would be ashamed to be called such. I know several families spinning in unimaginable anguish right now, so I wrote a bit about that, and then I kept on going with fumbling prayers. When I re-read it, though, it sounded self-centered and sanctimonious, so now it's gone. Good riddance to it. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd, yeah, 34 isn't old at all! But I turn thirty-FIVE in a month and a half. That's a different story, entirely! :)
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Zeke had multiple x-rays on his leg/hip because he couldn't walk or stand for a week after a fall. He's fine, though! The doctor thinks bleeding on a hip joint was probably the cause.
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I've always thought that those months before one is born must be some of the most seamlessly peaceful of one's life.
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