I spend most of the morning in bed with my face toward the wall.
I eat breakfast when my daughter asks me,
"Mom. How is your heart?"
I swallow hard.
Turn my face toward the window so she can't see my eyes but...
She watches me intently.
When did my little girl become a woman who asks such hard questions?
I can't lie to her so I try to give it to her easy.
She probes hard.
And we talk it through.
She comes 'round the table and takes me in her arms.
She anoints my head with kisses and...
She calls me "brave."
She lays a new runner on the table for me.
She puts an orchid down by my plate.
And a yellow coffee cup overflowing with chocolates I can't eat.
Looks like Jesus setting a table for me in front of my enemies, yes?
In front of my stomach aches and my auto-immune disease.
In front of the wall that must daily be climbed.
She places a paper weight just there.
It has a picture of a bird wearing a crown.
My daughter sees me with wings and...
There is just enough strength for the day.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Psalm 23:5