A small flame

A small flame

Doing the Impossible

Feet patter and the little voice wakes me

I've slept late,
yet woke up way too soon.

It's been a rough night
and I know I barely have what it takes
to drag myself out of bed.

I whisper a silent prayer
For help.
For strength
to do what I am commanded to do
- to love -

A lesson taught years ago -
one that my heart still strives to learn.

It is a command I know I cannot obey.
Not today.

{Why do I ever start a day thinking I can?}

Yet the command has been given - "Love"

Dim bedroom becomes a cathedral
And I worship
True, helpless, submissive, worship
The sacrifice of a contrite spirit.

"Abba? Help!"
He does not despise me.

* photo by Elle Photography

"Mama? I'm hungry".
Hands - mine, and yet, strangely not mine -
push back the covers.
Arms - mine and His - hug, hold, help.

I smell his * baby-becoming-boy * scent.
Whisper against his warm head;
words of love and care. . .
And hear the whispers meant for me:

"When you are weak,
Then you are strong

And I know the secret.
The worst days
are the best ones

Because when I understand
that I absolutely don't have what it takes,
I realize that
my Abba
is more than sufficient.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10
. . . Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

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