“Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods?”
The words roll off my tongue like a kiss in September.
Running slow as a soul’s exodus, a son called out of Egypt.
Open my lips for my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
Truly there is none like You.
“Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace.”
Peace neither needs to be spoken or heard.
Peace hears the words spoken here by another.
Understanding and sitting the quiet and still.
“What is the deepest root of your joy? What God gives to you? Or what God is to you?
It’s All we ever wanted.
Therein lies the solution.
In Christ we have it all.
Everyday the tears fall.
I know not if this is reality for most mothers. This is one of the reasons I cry. There is no one else to ask. No one else to talk to. No one to share the daily pain with, the daily work with, the daily joys with.
My heart continuously seeks to blame. Eve. The Serpent. The man. God. The blame brings me no peace, in fact, it only feeds the despair. This is not the way. Not the way of she who hopes in God.
What if my heart would praise instead?
“Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.”