“can we really do it?” trent says and he looks at me terrified, and it’s two a.m. and kasher won’t calm. “can we really take care of four boys?”
the bedroom sighs, as though turning in its sleep and i’m jealous. it’s been nights, now, of kasher rising by the hour.
i cry, “don’t start. don’t do this,” i tell trent, shaking my head. “i need you to be strong. if you start to doubt, then i will, and then…” i’m in my flannels and i go to the bathroom and sit and stare at the tiles. i like how orderly they are, how lined up and pretty, and i pray, “help.”
i feel done. i’m ready for heaven now, Lord, but there’s a world full of babies crying.
“i haven’t called you–” a voice says, and i lean into the air, listening. “i haven’t called you to be strong. i have called you to be obedient.”
lamott says maybe we love God the same way babies love us, in a “yay, the chuck wagon has arrived” kind of way, but i swear sometimes i think i love him with a grown-up kind of love.
this yahweh, who speaks to me through bathroom tiles.
*i have grown so fond of all of you. do you know? this imperfect prose community has become family to me… and i hope to resume it, sooner rather than later.
the boys aren’t arriving now until february 28th–giving me more time to work on my book, ‘mom in the mirror,’ which will be released may of 2013!–but i need to spend the next few weeks preparing my soul, my boys and our home for this transition, in addition to doing some writing. i will still be blogging, and i hope we can remain connected that way…
in the meantime, kimberly sullivan is starting a lovely meme in my absence called ‘painting prose’; i believe it starts next thursday, so be sure to check that out.
i am so excited to offer a FREE 9″ by 12″ GICLEE PRINT (with a 2″ border) today… just let me know which of the top four paintings speaks to you, and why, and i’ll choose a winner at the end of the week.
i am feeling quite teary now, so must close… know that i love you. i love you. i love you.*
1. link up a post (old or new) between wednesday and friday that you feel is ‘broken’ or ‘imperfect’ or somehow redemptive
2. put the ‘imperfect prose’ button at the bottom of your post, so others can find their way back here (see button code in right-hand column of my blog)
3. read at least one other person’s linked-up prose, and give ’em praise!
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‘sunflowers in september,’ ‘community,’ ‘mother and child,’ and ‘birds’ available at my etsy shop