I am living, loading the dishwasher,
driving the van, matching socks,
when my little ones say, “I miss God.”
I know this missing.
One day I stood in my house,
my bed, my dishes, my tables
and chairs all around, and my
heart cried, I want to go home.
These mysteries break my heart.
I watch the morning sky;
I see mars, and jupiter and venus.
They hang, glowing ornaments
on invisible trees.
Does Christ hang this way, glowing
with generosity on all our invisible trees,
a call to desire giving our last two coins,
our last bits of chocolate, our last everything?
My heart breaks for these eucharistic mysteries.