Midsummer heat. Children along for the ride when they'd rather be swimming and laughing in the sun. They dread the long drives that lead us to discouragement and dead-end roads.
I do, too.
In fact, I'm beginning to think that I dread a lot of things lately.
Like: How I will ever be home alone again with the children? Or the first inveitable night we will spend in a new home alone. Just the seven of us. Will I ever sleep again? Will peace come?
I am sleeping well now, but now we're thirteen in a home. Two strong men, two mamas, two dogs, loads of kids. There is strength in numbers. What will I do when those numbers go down?
I ache for a world that is so broken we consult the crime map for every home we consider. It's so much easier to live with a blind eye turned to the ugly. The dark. The truth.
And money can buy some things. Money buys safety in gated communities with steel bars that keep the mapper away. No red, yellow or green dots showing the last three years of "activity." Just white picket fences and iron bars to keep out the ugly world.
And I am angry that this is my new normal. That my senses are so super-sensitive that we are rethinking our fourth of July celebration this year, talking about getting rid of any fireworks because loud noises startle me, take me back to the kick, the fear.
I am praying for brighter days. Dreaming of a new Earth with love at the center. Where there are no tears and no pain and we all just smile and stare at the Great-I-Am and we know we see He is. For days when our Hallelujahs are no longer cold or broken. But just hallelujah. Just glorious hallelujah.
Because they've taken their toll, these latter days.
Hard thanks today...
345. For crime maps that narrow searches
346. Friends who share their homes and lives another week
347. Learning again that home is more than four walls
348. Beds on floors
349. Sharing a room with three of our littles
350. Boxes of love from far-off readers. Encouragement.
351. Clothes to wear, even if it's the same shoes everyday (and no jewelry)
352. Boxes packed and waiting for a home
