Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Dearest God,

Her eyes looked deeply into my soul as I told the story of my father's Alzheimer's. I told her how he used to tuck me into bed when I was a child, how he would have those blankets so tight around me that I couldn't move, how the bed got warm and cozy so fast that I would fall right to sleep. Then how one day he couldn't remember me and that he died.

Sophie asked me questions as she lay next to me all tucked in her blanket and me in mine. She wanted to know the story as only a child could ask. I told her that I still remember those nightly wrappings and how safe and happy I felt all tucked inside.

I think maybe that's what happens to me when I rest in your arms, when I come to you, crying out for trust. Perhaps that's why I cry out often.

Right now I am relying on you, seeking you, longing for your wrapping, trusting you.

Giver of rest
and peace,
I know
no other god
but you.
I cry out
your name
and you cry back
with mine.
Like a child
crying for her mother,
so do I cry out
for you,
Great Mother
of Grace.
Your compassion
wraps me;
your mercy
holds me tight.

Yours for always, Andrea