Tired of the questions
From little mouths and my own heart.
Tired of the fighting
Between little voices and my own.
Tired of making amends
In the battered places of so many souls.
Tired of the laundry,
Even the socks won’t get along.
The food prep, the cold,
The schedules, the forgotten forms, the gray sky.
Tired of the endlessness of it all.
I sit soft and sad
And look over the barren fields.
Will there be a harvest here, Lord?
Will the years and the tears and the tares
To show a tender shoot?
To the critical quiet of home
Your Spirit says,
I’ve placed you here
For those that sow in tears
Will one day reap no small shoot
But a harvest bright.
Let that glimpse of sunrise
Be a light unto my path.
For as the dawn is new every morning
So the Day Star will rise with hope,
As He has first in here,
In my heart and home.
"You aren’t enough"
He told me.
And so love,
As I have been.
“Moses said to God, “Who am I…?” (Exodus 33:11).
“God said to Moses, “I am who I am” (Exodus 3:14).
“And He awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm” (Mark 4:39).
“We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).
Please subscribe for my newsletter (more poetry, prose and book recommendations) next issue coming April. <3
As always thank you for reading.