The Lady is pulling gummy bears out of the jar at 7:00 am and I’m sliding cinnamon rolls in the oven. Boys are playing cards and my head aches a little, even though the day just begun.
The van won’t start properly so it has an appointment for service today, and I wish there was somewhere I could check in too, because it seems I have no idea how to start myself.
One of the boys makes a joke to another about dying and suicide, and my heart lunges for life, even though he was referring to a Lego guy flying out the bathroom door. “Never make jokes like that,” I warn. Our friends have faced too much of that darkness in this world for it to ever be funny.
A plate is dropped, cinnamon and glass fly. There are no apologies from this clumsy young one, and I am ticked. No, maybe it is my day tick-tick-ticking away without enough oxygen, enough deliberate grace, or enough remembering of all He has done and has yet to do.
I look in the mirror like that guy Stuart did in the old SNL skit and say all the things my heart needs to hear so desperately.
“You are loved by God. You are loved by your family. Your life is more than you deserve, more than you once dreamt, and full of grace. God is enough and very able. Everything is going to be okay.”
I step away from the mirror and look for Him in the wilderness of my soul. God sent a cloud and a flame to lead the Israelites and He can lead me through, too.
The week is before me, my husband and children are beside me, and hope tugs from a place I thirst after.
I kiss the scruffy bed-headed children around the kitchen table and leave my mess of a morning behind me.
It’s a re-do kind of morning….
