Spring will come.
I know this.
I feel this.
I see it in red crescents on black wings.
And in waking earth as it stretches from under white quilt.
I hear it in melting tears.
A new season is on its way.
A fresh start.
But time suspends itself this morning in frozen filigree that line my daughter’s drive.
And in diamond facets that spill over white carpet spread out under apple tree.
I want to stop and freeze frames of this wonderland.
But the baby’s in her car seat, and it’s very cold.
Later, after I’ve wiped runny nose and strained banana-smeared mouth.
Later, after I’ve cleaned bottom, fed bottle, burped, and bedded.
I go to the yard to capture icy tears.
“Whose fault is it?” he asked yesterday.
Mine, of course. It’s always my fault.
It’s a family joke.
But deep down, a part of me still believes it.
If I had taught better, shown better.
If I’d been more clear, more consistent.
If I hadn’t enabled.
If I’d made different choices.
Then maybe others would have made different choices.
As if I was perfect.
As if I had control.
I remember tears poured.
And the lyrics of the song from yesterday spill.
At the foot of the cross
Where grace and suffering meet
You have shown me your love
Through the judgment you received
And you’ve won my heart
Yes, you’ve won my heart
Now I can
Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross.
I remember that He sees my tears.
And their tears.
That He bottles my tears.
And their tears.
“What’s done is done,” he says. “He offers a fresh start, not a do-over.”
I’ll judge each of you according to the way you live. ~Ezekiel 18:30 (Message)
I snap some pictures and go inside to wash sweet potato tears from my shirt.
She will wake soon.
She will make choices.
And there will always be a fresh start.
Bring us back to you, God–we’re ready to come back. Give us a fresh start. ~Lamentations 5:21 (Message)
Where do you need a fresh start?
Linking with Laura.