Bill’s been sanding floors.
It is hard work, he reports.
Teo and I stay away those long hours he’s sanding. When Bill’s day is done he’s covered in wood-dust, coated like a soft fawn.
These days, when it’s just Teo and I, I often feel there’s so much going on within 600 square feet of a home and I find myself speaking and thinking in fragments:
So much love.
Dog hair: everywhere.
Tame your fear.
Fear, a survival instinct. Next to it sits the feeling of utter joy. I’ve never been happier as when I’m when I’m carrying Teo on my hip through our apartment and his hand lands on my heart as the dogs trot around my ankles. No, I’ve never been happier. I want to protect this happiness and the feeling drives me mad. I search for faith. There was a time when I was certain there was something beyond what we can see and hear and touch.
I once wrote a shape poem about that time:
I prayed before
bedtime that God
would help me find my
yellow budgie. I had
let her out of her cage.
Perched her in the hibiscus
tree that’s kept in my room
(Mom says it’s because my room
gets the best light). Instead of staying
perched like she was told, she flew off
to somewhere I couldn’t find. So there
in the dark, with my hands neatly folded,
I promised to never doubt God’s existence
if He would please bring me my budgie
(and Egyptian Cartouche necklace. It has
my name spelled in hieroglyphics). I shot that
prayer up like a laser beam through Heaven’s
clouds and my plea flooded all the rooms of
God’s castle. After an hour or so, God agreed
to take me up on the bargain, and I was startled
by the sound of flapping wings. I turned on the
light to see my budgie flying around the ceiling
before he tumbled, wings open, behind the big chair. I never knew birds could fall. I leapt out of bed and pulled the chair from the wall and there was my budgie looking
up at me.Her legs tangled
in my Egyptian Cartouche
necklace. I untangled
her and put her back
her in her cage.
She seemed relieved
to finally be home.
God doesn’t always
agree to my bargains,
just sometimes, every
blue moon or so. And
when He does, it
me. And I don’t
I guess as time moved on and life became even more precious, my faith slowly diminished. It’s not completely gone, I’d just like to beef it up some. I feel like if I don’t, I’ll never be able to let go of this fear and therefore, I won’t be open to receive love and light.
Do you have miracle story that helps you remember why you have faith to begin with?