The middle one listens
to her dad and me schedule the days
and work through conflicts and make offers
to help one another.
She interjects during the hurried morning
“Well, I could skip vacation bible school…”
When we disuade that generosity, she replies:
“But I already know everything about Jesus;”
and I recall last evening’s theme:
God knows you by name,
and Jesus loves you.
I ask her if this is correct:
Then she bites into her cinnamon toast,
pulls her royal purple, fuzzy blanket around
bare “night-gown” shoulders
and settles in to breakfast.
My cell phone signals a reminder:
“June 7 ovulation (maybe)”
“Be mindful of your reaction and response”
Lord, keep my head above the flux,
the rush, the flood of chemicals
whose bed is winding and crooked,
jagged and full of falls –
the neural pathways seem shallow
and the downpour spills over the banks –
deep within the earth, in hidden caves,
the springs let go their invisible substances
and the bloodstream fills with mystery,
but you are never far from me.
My cell phone sends the same
alert to my husband –
we will love and be loved.
My little one asks me,
“Mom, will you hold me?”
while she sits on my lap,
my arms around her.
I say, “I am holding you,”
and smile; so she smiles, too,
and asks, “Forever?”