They are so easy to wash away, they fall and disappear but the pain remains.
It's been a bad morning. I stare at myself in the mirror, desperately seeking to forgive and find forgiveness, needing grace to flow over me. I am angry and disappointed. Which more? I don't know. I am looking for this joy in life I am striving to be aware of each day. Where is it today?
I cannot see it. It is out of my reach.
I have become what I would never be.
My hair falls in my face and my eyes burn but that is not why I cannot see. I cannot see because I am not worthy. I cannot see because of blue eyes and tiny fingers gripping and why can't I just accept?
Composure is forced. A smile is weak as I drive to where I need to be.
Don't take it out. Don't take it out on the darlins' in the back seat.
We drive up at the same time. She looks lovely today with her hair growing long and her new blouse on. I notice right away, maybe it's the sun.
I made you something, she begins.
She doesn't know I can still feel the sting of tears and the anger and shame.
Don't take it out, I think again.
I had lost it but then I found it, she continues.
And there it is in her hand. A snow white hand towel she monogrammed with Rie's Kitchen and an ice cream cone.
I am immediately struck with the knowledge of the thought put into this gift. It is my colors. The colors of my life - which are the colors of my home. Teal, brown, apple green, orange. . . an accent of red.
It is me and she knows it. It is why she chose it.
She left nothing out. There is love.
I can barely say thank you because of the threat of the tears. I don't even know if I did.
I sit inside and think, maybe I have not become what I did not want.
She sees something. She has chosen me to be her friend. It is a privilege. She does not choose lightly - this I know.
She has chosen me and God has chosen her and this moment for her to find it and gift it to me.
This moment she does not know would matter so. The snow white of it, the colors of it, the thought. The greatness in something so small and simple.
Without touching this cloth to my face it has dried my tears and there are no more today.
I hang it here.
Out of reach of the grime.
Next to this . . .
and down from this . . .
Reminders of my daily filth and breath of promises to my soul.
Promises my Savior added to today with the gift and the giver.
Donna and the towel that is snow white - except for her color.