So I'm told that "the glory of God is man fully alive." But when the kids shout angry, and the belly hangs heavy, and the son's tooth is infected, and the nights blur into days, the life in me trickles out. And this longing for glory is left as a wee little puddle in the cellar of my soul.
I came back more fully alive, my mind quieted, my soul centered. I came back noticing. Each moment holds something. I'm just usually too distracted to notice. But it's the very noticing of the moments, the living fully in them that is saving me right now.
|framedart.com by by Conrad Knutsen|
Each morning I open the porch door. There I see the blasted black cat that thinks he lives on our porch. He's killed my potted herb basket, making it his nightly bed. He can't be shooed or scared away. Believe me, I've tried. I'm quite certain I hate him. But after the moment when I saw my daughter whack him with a broom and my son give him a fierce tiger roar, I realized feline hatred may not be a trait to pass onto my children. So here's to learning to love (or at least tolerate) my enemy.