Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
Confucius
(brand new little gala apple blooms / Julie Cook / 2015)
Eyes hesitantly flicker open long before first morning’s light
A groggy mind works to sort out what the day ahead has in store.
Then the weary eyes close, wanting to put the day off a bit longer
Oversleeping leads to jumping up, bounding, and then running the remainder of the day
Long drive
Disheartening reports and observations
Long conversations
Hard conversations
Hopefulness is blindsided by reality
Strong words echo of defiance,
Yet are betrayed by both fragile mind and frail body.
The child now tells the parent what will or will not be.
Battles of will and hearts rage.
Tiny compromises stave off a bleeding flood by a day, maybe two. . .
Tears ride home in tired eyes,
While a heart fights breaking.
The traffic consumes what nerves remain
When a familiar prayer floods a rattled mind. . .
God of your goodness,
Give me yourself.
For you are enough for me
And I can ask for nothing less that is to your glory.
And if I ask anything less,
I shall still be in want,
for only in you have I all.
A lifeline of hope guides this wayward soul home. . .
(Prayer and image of manuscript below by St Julian of Norwich)
(Westminster Manuscript attributed to St Julian of Norwich)
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