In the last five days,
Our internet connection has fallen
into hibernation
under the winter blankets
stirring for less than ten hours
then falling back into
a dead sleep.
So goes the back country and late December winds
And a satellite that prefers summer.
When she rouses, I slip in with a few words,
tap out a few emails before
she rolls over again, arm around me,
to take me back to the
slumbering quiet.
Thank you for your grace.
(And if you’ve emailed me in the last week – oh, let’s be honest — in the last year!—please, I wildly beg your forgiveness.
I try to daily tap out some responses, and yet for the notes I am unable to scratch out some words, I do fervently pray, carry your stories with me.
Increasingly I wonder if I should scratch out anything online if I’m unable to respond to your thoughtful notes.
Honestly, it wrings my heart right out that there aren’t enough hours or enough me. I wash dishes and my heart writes letters back to you. I beg your grace and understanding.
And I just know that you’ll take the little scraps posted here as my genuine offer of love and know that if I can’t email a response, it’s only about my fumbling and bumbling, and not at all a reflection of how I feel about kind you.
I knew you’d understand – you’re all wild grace like that!
The snow falls.
Tuck under His love, world.)
Photos: snow falling here
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