I sit in the chair on the eve of the most celebrated day in Christendom.
A Stone Rolled Away.
One life Raised.
So we all could follow Him.
But I sit sad.
Because the Kind and Compassionate and I had it out tonight.
And because I keep failing and failing and failing.
Just sitting broken remembering him...
Rocking him to sleep singing his favorite song...
"Lay Down Your Burdens. I Will Carry You."
Him sucking his thumb and reaching up to twist my hair.
Me trying to untangle him so I could hold his hand.
Him holding my face with those chubby fingers.
And I wonder that I can love a child so much.
And make him hurt the way I do.
And I don't know how to do this.
Can't. Seem. To. Get. It. Right.
How do you raise a child without razoring his heart?
How do you help him to be strong while nourishing the tender heart that makes him precious?
On the night before victory.
I sit in a tomb all my own.
And wait for the SON to rise,