Wee hour wakefuls


Foster care / Monday, February 18th, 2019

Silence.

The hum of a white-noise fan upstairs
The purr of a lone car going by
The sound of my own cough.

I feel very silly for telling the doctor I am not coughing anymore
But it made him happy to have cured me
And it was true at the time.

Maybe I am allergic to loss.

So many joys to be grateful for, this month of February
So many people blessing us and offering the greatest of care
I list them all out in thanks, and then
The cursor blinks and there is nothing.

Now is the last weekend, when the foster baby clothes are packed,
The toys carefully garnered from all over the house
And no gleanings left in the corners
A year’s worth of living packed
In white trash bags
But not trash
Treasure.

Each day that passes is one day farther on

Each task accomplished is less to face tomorrow

Each mission is strength for the next.

10 Replies to “Wee hour wakefuls”

  1. “So many joys to be grateful for…”….”But not trash. Treasure.”… “Each day that passes is one day farther on…” Forward, Sister! God give you grace to continue choosing to face all the changes with eternal perspective! Prayers.

  2. I don’t suppose this poem is very well in keeping with our Mennonite ways (up and at em!, daylights burnin’, idleness is the devils workshop, after all!) but it does care for your soul, which I love…so here it is. I hope it breathes encouragement to your hurting heart.

    If the mountain seems too big today
    then climb a hill instead
    if the morning brings you sadness
    it’s ok to stay in bed
    if the day ahead weighs heavy
    and your plans feel like a curse
    there’s no shame in rearranging
    don’t make yourself feel worse
    if a shower stings like needles
    and a bath feels like you’ll drown
    if you haven’t washed your hair for days
    don’t throw away your crown
    a day is not a lifetime
    a rest is not defeat
    don’t think of it as failure
    just a quiet, kind retreat
    it’s ok to take a moment
    from an anxious, fractured mind
    the world will not stop turning
    while you get realigned
    the mountain will still be there
    when you want to try again
    you can climb it in your own time
    just love yourself til then.

  3. your loss would not be so great if you had not loved so well. i do not know you, only know OF you. but i feel your pain and admire your heart. Jesus, thank you that you love Shari so well. Please keep holding her and whispering hope to her. Give her deep sleep at night and quiet pleasure in her husband’s love and deep connection and solace with her other children and her other friends. Help her to keep going one step at a time with you, and give her beauty for ashes and the oil of joy for mourning.

  4. The allergy…maybe it is to the dust of these ashes, the hopes & dreams that have gone to nothing; they are poofing around you like a fine powder, threatening to overcome & suffocate….but God. He is here. He will turn your ashes to beauty, dear sister. Some way, some day, some how…I only wish you could know when. Then you could endure this dry and barren place where you cough and cry and stumble through the remains of what was to be, occasionally feeling a hot coal and knowing there are probably more hidden in the pile. Praying for you, and lifting you up to our Father! You are so sweetly transparent, & I know God will bless your honesty!

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