Thanks for Shoulders

For the Holy Road.
His hand in mine.
The way only a wife can erase that line carved deep: worry.
And how I can see the way he needs comfort.
Just a soft place to lay his head in the storm.
When he makes himself vulnerable like that.
Because even Shoulders sag sometimes.
The way God made it.
A man and his woman folding into each other.
Becoming one.
Becoming.
Becoming.
And just how the hard things make us.
Hold fast to each other.
To Christ.
To the Line.
When we're hanging by a thread.
He becomes the only thing that keeps us from cutting loose.
And floating out on the wide, unknown depth of the sea.
See?
He is good.
Marriage is good.
The Shoulders becomes stronger still when he is weak.
And I???
I give him a place to sigh.
To cry.
To rest.

To Become,

Bernadette

The Gospel Bent Over A Bowl

The good news is in the green of grass.
And the green of my stomach as it churns.
While resting in the arms of a Savior.
Who loves to care for His children.
The broken down.
The lonely.
The sick.
I vomit life and grief and the weight of all this world.
Right into the bright orange of that bowl.
The prayerful intentions I had for some time away with Him.
All about Him.
Seemingly ruined, but...
He always knows the plan.
And as I crawl across the floor to the bathroom.
I see what I wrote in permanent marker on the outside palm of my hand.
"THE LORD'S"
And it makes me cry out.
"Oh, Jesus,  please not this way.  Not like this."
I cover my hand and groan.
But I know.
He knows.
And He takes all the sick of me.
All that is vomit and shit.
And He wipes it away.
Tenderly.
The God of the universe cleanses me.
He hovers over my bed with washbasin and towel.
Reminds me.
Over and Over.
That He doesn't remember my sins.
That He casts them behind His back.
That He buries them in the depth of the sea.
That He remembers them no more.
Jesus.  Doesn't.  Remember.
But He knows that I do, and He gently washes the stains.
Whispers the Psalms and the Gospel.
The Good News about a GodMan named Jesus.
Who came to save the lost.
The blind, the lame, the unloved.
The sick.
The bed spins beneath my head while He whispers on into the night.
And I drift on His voice singing waves of Grace.
To make the sick well again.
To make us all well.

The Gospel.  The Good News of Jesus Christ.

Bernadette

Flight to Freedom Through Obedience

Daniel is in the garage pounding on his drums.

I sit with this pounding headache.

Contemplating the project.

God's kindness to me in His confirmation.

Gentle leading.

Seeming to provide me with a bit of time.

To be alone.

Because alone with Him is the only possibility.

The only way, I think.

To get free.

Remember?

"The only way out is through."

And so I must...

Walk through the ring of fire.

To have a life of sorrow singed.

Because I need my wings.

So I can fly.

Bernadette

The Invisible Life

Alphabetizing the Invisible:

Asking them to help, Arguing that t.v. is not an option, Angling for a productive summer.
Buying, Beautifying, Boring.
Cleaning, Cooking, Crafting help for the little one.
Doing the Drudgery...Dismally!
Frying, Fixing, Forcing.
Going, Groceries, Garbage out.
Healing a hurt Heart by...Hugging.
Incredible selfishness, Idolness, Impudence.
Job after Job after Job!
Killing when unKind to Kin.
Lying and Laziness and the Lectures that follow.
Mom!  Mom!  Mom!
No!  Not now!  Not ever!
Optional?  No.  Opportunistic?  Not now.  Obvious that your socks are on the floor?  Not ever.
Picking up again, planning meals again, promising play dates with friends.
Sometimes I want to Quit my job Quickly because it's making me Queazy.
Racing, Rushing, Remembering things I didn't do yesterday.
Smarting from all the Sassing.  Sagging!
Training, Teaching, Tired.
Undone, Unseen, Unappreciated.
Vice grip on steering wheel as Voices brag about muscles and proclaim their own Vanity.
Washing dishes, Washing laundry, Washing the boy's bathroom again.
Feeling eXceptionally sorry, eXtremely frustrated and eXtraordinarily "done."
Zoned out and with Zero patience here today at the Zoo.

The ABC's of the invisible life,

Bernadette