mercy day
a walk on the shaded path at my favorite park.
sensing my baby as i breathed and walked.
lunch with my husband and son.
songs in the car that make my son clap and smile and laugh.
the scent of a lavender beeswax candle.
deep breaths between toddler tantrums and chaos.
the reminder that i cannot make anyone happy or holy.
the hope of a new friend.
a two-hour phone call with an old, best friend.
the husband who bathed and fed my son while i laughed on the phone.
the little boy who fell asleep in my arms under dim lights while my friend and i said good-byes.
it is on these days – days when i have lost it, lost my grip, lost my footing, lost all perceived control – that mercy bursts in. not to tell me to get my act together. not to tell me to put it in perspective and think about starving kids in africa. but, in her cheeky way, she reminds me that i can lose it, really lose it, and still be loved.
she is boisterous and bold on these days, flamboyant with the hope and peace she starts spreading around when all else is frustration and pandemonium. yes, she is quite unruly. and i mean that in the best possible way.
