Perspective

Unbearable heat. Sparked anger. Flared tempers. Bickering over games, over toys, over every little thing that doesn’t go right. The longsuffering sigh of motherhood escapes as another insult is hurled between the children. I turn away.

How long, Lord? How long ‘till we feel some relief?

And it’s all normal, until it is not.

Eye’s wide. Tears formed. Arms failing. Horrifically quiet. Silently dying within arms reach.

I scream his name.

A deep finger scoop frees the airway and the most beautiful breath sounds fill the room. I pull him in. Skin against skin, cherishing the body heat that means he’s alive. “It’s okay now. I’ve got you. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”

Cool tears bring relief and the embrace tightens, neither ready to let go. Neither ready to acknowledge how fast it all changes. Forced normalcy cannot stop the flood. What if I hadn’t turned back? What if the God who gives and takes away had called him home? What if—

—what if I simply give thanks? Thankful today is not that day. Not the day that requires that kind of strength. Thankful I can hold him a little bit longer.

And it dissipates.

Frustration. Anger. Heat. All ceasing to matter in the cool light of life.

Thank you, Jesus.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.