Walking Notes

We’re walking along and walking along and nothing much changes.
And all of a sudden we melt because everything feels horrible
and we cry about our socks not fitting right,
something we wouldn’t have cried about yesterday.

My little one went all to tears the other day.
I said her namely loudly, exasperated.
She belted out through her sobs, “Sometimes life is hard!”

I spun around to face her, surprised by what she said.
Something melted in me, too, and let go
so I could see things differently,
like the way the red cardinal breaks the monotony
of a dreary day, a relief, and a release
into a fresh reality.

We hugged, because that makes things okay again.
We walk along and walk along and not too much changes,
though gratefulness comes to rest on my spirit
like a red cardinal on the grey chain-link fence.

Emmanuel

Be with me in my
waking, praying, moving.
Be with me in my
speaking, hugging, helping.
Be with me in my
scrubbing, filling, placing.
Be with me in my
prepping, serving, feeding.
Be with me in my
packing, driving, sending.
Be with me in my
washing, drying, folding.
Be with me in my
rinsing, loading, sorting.
Be with me in my
wiping, dusting, tidying.
Be with me in my
smiling, laughing, playing.
Be with me in my
reading, writing, drawing.
Be with me in my
making, wrapping, giving.
Be with me in my
welcoming, greeting, caring.
Be with me in my
holding, squeezing, kissing.
Be with me in my
gathering, chopping, cooking.
Be with me in my
thinking, tending, working.
Be with me in my
bathing, diapering, dressing.
Be with me in my
snuggling, tucking, whispering.
Be with me in my
talking, knowing, listening.
Be with me in my
breathing, resting, sleeping.
Be with me in my
loving, loving, loving.