entry twenty seven

every. single. thing. in this house needs to be put back in its place. and it is all chaos. for all time. For even if it gets cleaned today, by sunup tomorrow it will need to all be done again.

and this time is this gift wasted on cleaning only what has been undone. to redo.

the monotony of motherhood.

and each day it is  bountifully full of wonders.

the girl child of mine seems to learn five new words every day, as she dwells in her world of blissful beauty and incandescent laughter. this bubble life of hers is glorious. and joy.

and boy-child-growing-to-school-age? well, he’s just right racket-balled-smacking against anything solid. all disheveled merriment. and who can keep up with a boy turned wild where those things are?

In this midst of all of this… and I feel weight-of-solid-too-heavy-to-take-full-breath   b e a r i n g   down and   c r u s h i n g   bone. into. dust.

choking on dust.

drowning in the dust.

and the dry of the soul.

The dawn breaks.

It whispers into sleeping child heads of tasseled blondness.

And then hear them come, together, hand in hand, beaming the brightest –  before the daylight even has a chance to break the horizon of this fast in slumber world.

a n d   t h e   w e i g h t   p r e s s e s .

the whole body drags and drops down stairs, one still-half-asleep foot after the other, to nurse a babe. and the mental fortress behind the drooped lids gird up for the fresh brutality of toddler forces. and the day.

Image

and, most every day, I have left Him waiting.

And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever,”  (John 14:16) emphasis added

And Jesus, the Son, said that God, the Father, would send another– “another that is just. like. the. FIRST.”

Here He is, the Holy Spirit– one in the same as the Father and the Son- and what do I do?

I quench Him.

The very thing God commands not to do, and I do it.

I find myself drowning in the dust of my own efforts as I refuse to fully submit my life to the Spirit of the Living God.

I am child holding tightened fist and refusing to let my Father fill me up with all the good and the help He has for me. As I cry like the overgrown tiny human I am.

Atheist, Spirit-quenching, child.

oh how blind can you possibly get before you will finally. be. able. to. see ?

To unclench that child-like hand of yours.

to relinquish.

to cup hands closely open

 to drink deeply of the grace gift so. inordinately. good. 

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