Early morning sunrise streams in from behind cracked curtains and I see him.
I see him walk out in the snow to the shed, his jacket too thin for the bitter cold, his worn boots unlaced where underneath his heels broke free, and his socks were worn holey.
He hadn't eaten breakfast.
He didn't make his lunch.
I knew better than to ask if he had brushed his teeth because I already knew the answer. After ten years you know the answer.
Years ago when I was in middle school I longed for love. Not the average everyday middle school crushes but love. I was searching for it, desperately seeking for what seemed to missing. This search resulted in a variety of troubled situations that I found myself in.The song lyrics are flooding my brain, "Looking for love in all the wrong places".
As I searched for this evasive love in relationships, activities and drinking I found
These words of Thessalonians — But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Jesus — yes, these are words that I have heard so many times…but I could see these words clearly in his face. The missing and the mourning. The hope and anticipation. The yearning for a better place, a better day. One without end…the day
He was sitting in a wheelchair, people-watching from the front corner of the grocery store’s entry way. I was thinking only of the tasks ahead of me in the afternoon…getting Kailey and the groceries into the car, remembering when to pick up the boys from their after-school activities, getting dinner ready…little to-do items raced their relay-races around my brain. I smiled at him as we neared the door, reaching for sunglasses from the depths of my bag.
He waved at me. “Can you come
I sit in the hallway outside of my daughter’s room. It is late and the
floor uncomfortable, but the little nightlight that she holds is
moving, so I know her eyes are still on me. When her room is dark, she
cannot stay still long enough to fall asleep unless she knows I am
right there, close at hand. Watching out for her. Simply sitting in
the silence, where I can hear her smallest cry. This process is
sometimes long, but necessary. Every night, I try to