The Promise

fawn_web

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:

Insane.

Cluttered.

Lost.

So much love.

Poop everywhere.

Pee everywhere.

Dog hair: everywhere.

Tame your fear.

ProtectTeo_web

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:

Budgie

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

always surprises

me. And I don’t

know why.

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?

Faith_web

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About clutterheart

You don't know me, but you will.
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