Bending

I bend and snap closed her pink heart-covered raincoat,
my knees creaking, the fabric swishing.
I sweep back a lock of her wavy blonde hair
and click the purple flower clip into place.
We will rush for shoes and boots and bag.

She cries when she’s tired, only she doesn’t know that’s the reason.
I wipe the salt-drops from beneath her eyes,
some slipping over her cheeks, falling to her belly, or to the floor.
We hug.  She crawls onto to my unsteady, half-squat lap.
I am bending and she is held.

Psalm for the Future

When I am lonely, and mired in hopelessness, lift me.
When I am angry, and aflame with incredulity and indignation, cool me.

When I am  spinning with joy and ease, nudge me.
When I am drowsy with contentment and bliss, wake me.

When I am overcome with grief and sorrow, uncover me.
When I am  laden with powerlessness and loss, energize me.

Lord God, you are all in all.  Help me to remember you always.

Amen.

Thankful

The littlest one
is fifteen months old
and he throws fits now.

They are classic ones,
head thrown backward,
back arched,
legs kicking

and every effort
is made
to get flat
on the floor.

He scrunches his face and cries.
He pushes out his lower lip.
He huffs and humphs.
He gets his head on the ground.

Now my opportunities to practice
patience, understanding, and compassion
abound. Around the corner of every moment

I can choose love.