we ponder these things like mary did, in a coffeeshop stacked high with spines the color of crayons and we drink decaf and she talks of prayer. of the way it happens when night folds with gown against baby’s cheek. of the way “God holds me as i hold my baby” and how now, when her other son cries he asks her to pray with him because it’s as natural as asking for kleenex and i nearly cry. wanting so badly to know how to pray, but finding mind blank for the largeness of it all: for the larger-than-life love that i nurse and i cannot find the words. “it’s in the sighs, it’s in the groans, that’s the prayer of a mother,” friend tells me. and i think how wise her eyes. we talk of other, of finding God beyond the image, and knowing him versus knowing nature or babies or husbands, and how to really meet him. but mostly we sip our coffee and stare at the books and feel like the girls we were when we met in bible college, girls who now hold children and find themselves in a world so much holier than they’d ever imagined.

…linking to dear Gypsy Mama’s 5 Minute Friday

(note about imperfect prose on thursdays: THANK YOU to all who participate/d! and thank you, for encouraging me… i love you.)