Open Sidebar

when things get broken

The morning’s barely warm, early and breaking.

On the way in from the hen house, she trips on the back step and drops the only egg she’s found.

How do you tell someone that there are times it’s best to leave some of the pieces of your life behind?

That sometimes leaving pieces of the shell behind just might release you.

You never break apart — you break open — I want to tell her this, her trying to smile brave in first light.

CSC_0015

CSC_0027

CSC_0021

“It’s okay, right Mama?”

She looks up, trying to sound out the syllables of the moment, to read my face.

Egg’s dripping down the stone step.

I tuck a tendril behind her ear, us all broken.

She’ll find this someday, carry it in with her, warmth right there in her hand: you can’t get to joy by making everything perfect. You can only get there by seeing in every imperfection all that’s joy.

The joy is in having the Beloved, not in loving what we have.

DSC_1547

When she carries in one speckled egg early the next morning, she says it before I can say what I see:

“See Mama? See all the light I’m carrying in?”

That is all –

everything giving way to all His light….

::

::

::

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011 | Farming, Joy Habit, Refiner's Fire, trust