Speckled and spiny,
fat and crowded,
this aloe is not exactly beautiful.
It's interesting.
It's a live sculpture,
grown from a tiny sprout
that my Grandma gave to me.
It makes its home in a German pot
perched on a mirrored gear.
But what is this?
In my dining room,
sharing air with the aloe
and the driftwood cross
and my new tree-basket chandelier?
It's a beautiful mess.
You can see Julia's leather accessories here.
In the backyard, the meadow grass is brilliant green.
The trees have not yet leafed.
Malachi loves to stand at this window and gaze outside.
This week,
I'm trying to take the long view.
The days are spent restoring order,
picking up toys,
calming tantrums,
settling a restless little one down for a nap.
(I had amnesia as far as raising a toddler was concerned).
When I back away a bit from the myopia
of the dailyness
of it all,
I see the picture more clearly.
What a mess meets the eyes of my heart.
I feel small and helpless in the face of such sorrow.
I want to do something.
I've been awake since before 2:00 a.m.,
my mind flitting from thing to thing,
the way minds do.
Memories of our family day yesterday,
walking around the Island on Julia's campus.
Images of our latest house plan.
A beloved friend's face.
Children around the globe, misused and tormented.
Slowly, I gather my thoughts
into prayers.
I lay aside the flights of fancy
and begin to notice the burdens that I'm bearing.
I lay them before Jesus, one by one.
It is not a small thing
to bring before the One Who Sees
my faltering pleas
for mercy.
"If any of you feel, But how can we be happy while we are burdened by the sins and sorrows of the world? I say to you, 'O thou enemy, destructions are come to a perpetual end...But the Lord shall endure for ever...He shall judge the world in righteousness' (Ps. 9:6-8). The day when that word will be fulfilled is on its way, it is hastening. So in faith and certainty we rejoice, for sin and sorrow shall not endure forever; they have an end." (Amy Carmichael)
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