happy little sigh

Today began with so much sameness.

So much of what I faced yesterday.

Last week.

And a thousand days before. 

A crying baby and an aching back broke my sleep,

made it hard to peel back the covers and start the day, 

especially when I thought I knew

just what was coming. 

As I got ready,

stood in the bathroom and smeared cream over my face,

the murky light that crept in from the windows

seemed just like the greyness I felt inside, 

that feeling that I really didn’t want to “do” today, 

that feeling of longing for something

though I didn’t know quite what. 

And then it all happened

just like I feared. 

I realized we were out of yogurt,

and milk, 

and eggs, 

and bread, too. 

And so as I scrambled to make a smoothie with our solitary banana and some berries, 

spread peanut butter over an apple I’d sliced,

it seemed they were all underneath me at once, 

my wee men, 

one complaining about the breakfast, 

one wanting to help, 

the wee-est one digging his fat fingers into my leg and hollering to be picked up. 

And I did think, for that chaotic hour, 

“is this really all there is?”

And I knew that if it was

then I really couldn’t bear it,

and the day would not go well. 

And any sacredness there, any beauty,

in my home, in our lives,

well I didn’t really see it

at all. 

We didn’t stick around. 

I decided we needed out.

Sometimes we all just do. 

And it was cold and grey when we piled into the car,

headed for the museum. 

But when we returned

just a few hours later

the grass was two shades greener 

and the air like a greenhouse of hazy warm light. 

And as we shed our wellies and jackets in the mudroom

I checked my tomato seeds and found a few new sprouts. 

All that warmth and light had done them good. 

Warmth,

and light, 

it does us good, too. 

And for me,

for a follower of Jesus Christ, 

that word is just

everything. 

For light can banish

not only the greyness of sameness and uncertainty, 

but the blackness of tragedy

and every darkest fear. 

And yes, sometimes life is a jumble, 

and you’re waiting,

and you’re feeling how much you really need 

to get it right. 

But sometimes that’s when God is calling

though it can be so hard to see. 

Not just in the tragedy, in the blackness, 

but in the grey. 

And though the waiting is uncomfortable

and we all want answers now, 

the greyness is the time to dig in deeper, 

listen longer, 

listen sharper, 

and persevere. 

Run.

 

And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Fixing our eyes on Jesus. 

Hebrews 12:1-2

Run to Jesus. 

Like he never stops running

after you. 

 

 

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