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Friday, May 4, 2012

When the Need Doesn't Matter

The worries of my world strike hard at four in the morning.  My mind drifts in this direction I yank back hard and turn my pillow to the cool side.  It grows warm and I sit up, stretch my feet that are yelling and give up.

I stand by her door but do not open it.  It's old and loud.  My hand finds that old pane and I utter, please, Father.



And that first child that is flying high has me whispering her own plea to above.  May her sugar be where it should be may she do as she should do and will you please, Father, make me a little better at this letting go. Where do I let go to?   And this new hold is not as easy as the first.

I lie back down and find him in the dark.  It has been too long and there is too much to do and not enough time and all that has held us apart or kept us apart is lost at four in the morning with his arms wrapped tight and I hear the breath I love you.  When he speaks it like a whisper breath and not a closing of a call or an exit out the door and I breathe it in like the gift it is.

I pull the covers up over his little body and wonder how she sleeps in that position and think about my day.

Today I will load the car and forget the camera or the bottle or the small flag he will wave and have to go back in and rush to not run late. 

Today I will stand on the side of the highway for a man I did not know but wish I had.  When he answered her 911 call and stayed by her side and told her it would be okay I should have taken the time to find him and thank him. I wonder how this event in her life will shape her.  He came and protected and comforted and now he was cruelly taken away and shouldn't she be too young for this?



 



I stand at the window looking out and think about the man that took this officer's life.  How does a person get to a place like that?  Did he not have someone to pull the covers up over him or pray hand on his door?  Did he not have someone to find in the dark?  Did he turn his back and say no over and over until his heart was hard?

This is the only highway I have ever known and each mile has memory and today I take my children and stand in respect and wonder how do you thank enough and why my highway?




Someone said there had to be a first, even in our little city, but why did there have to be?  I think of his child and his wife and who will whisper those words like breath and that's enough thinking and I notice my windows need washing and I turn away as the paperboy drives by and I wonder why don't I drink coffee?

Then - there it is.  What I have grown to expect and need and appreciate and adore.  The rush of comfort and peace and promise.

It always comes.  No matter the time the sun setting or rising no matter the question or the need.

It always comes.





2 comments:

Lisa notes... said...

Why do I find myself crying so often after I read your blog? ha. You touch me with your words. You go deep. You have a gift to take a moment and breathe such life into it that I breathe it too.

I don't know what happened in your town, but I know it must be significant (isn't everything, to someone?). Praying for all of you.

Jennifer said...

I read this, Marie, and think of the post I started to write, but couldn't find the words to convey how close to home this hit me. Not only is the city so close to mine, I have met the wounded officer and because I have a brother in this line of work, I realize that our family could be going through what this one is.

The fragility of life never ceases to amaze me. Neither does the way we take it for granted.

Drawing of me losing my cool courtesy of budding artist, Izzy.


Have a dressed up day!


. . . put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Colossians 3:12