The house still, the flurry of people loving us gone.
Sleep has come, and now eludes me.
My mind is not still, details swirling like an Arizona duststorm.
So many things to figure out.
The glow of gratitude, of being alive;
Fades in the harsher light of a naked bulb.
We are alive, and there are infinite details.
Things to research, submit, figure out.
So many involve asking for help.
Very few doable alone.
I am not afraid to ask;
Forced humility honed on the wheel of suffering.
The rhythms of daily life are drowned out,
The beat a distant memory.
Children marked by trauma flounder in this swirl,
Change, the enemy; their world not safe.
I sit by the tree as night holds its hush for one last hour.
“Spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow…”
The grace comes for this moment;
Not the days, or weeks, or months ahead.
I forgot that today.
I tried to solve so many things.
Real things, needed things.
For children, for clients, for food.
But in the middle of the myriad of details,
I forgot the ONE thing.
It took people with skin on to remind me.
“You are not alone”.
The sound of the breaking of that lie
Ricocheted through places unseen,
And so I sit in vigil by the tree,
Listening for the whisper of the One Incarnate.
Bigger than my fear,
Bigger than the preaching that distorted HaShem.
Here. Now. In the stillness.
And ready to walk forward with me,
In the days of enforced stillness ahead.
May I have ears to hear the whisper.