God of the gone,
There have been some very long days on the calendar. And babies who won’t nap.
Corner heaps of dirty laundry, towers of messy dishes, stacks of unfinished paperwork. Endless readings of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm”, the unabridged version.
One dead Christmas tree waiting for a proper burial…
There are antibiotics and humidifiers. Sick Days where there’s a little more patience, a little less snapping.
We have “swollen moments” that bring us back to ourselves. We practice new songs, learn new dances. We cook and light candles and talk about things that are so removed from this time and place. We start to see the value of hitting pause.
And at some point we realize the return to what was that we’ve been waiting for isn’t coming. We’re not going back to the exact rhythm of what we remember coming before this. We try not to say this out loud too much since it sounds obvious, but we’re tired and foggy and there’s never enough coffee, so it’s semi-understandable.
Though we’re not completely sure what it means, we ask you to bless these days ahead, to help us see things as fluidly as possible, rather than permanent and unchanging. Maybe you could even give us some patience (if the world has any to spare?) and added weight to our sense of humor so that where ever we’re headed we can be on our most OK behavior possible.