On Making the Living Room A Holy Place

Some days it’s hard.

Some days I don’t feel like counting,

or searching.  A day like today.

I  have a slight headache from tears,

bad news and fears,

and all is not right with the world.

But I know that beauty is there,

I just don’t care to see her.

I want to be ugly,

and I know that moments of grace

will melt ugliness away

like the rain melts the snow in my backyard.

I force myself to read His Words to me.

Dragging my body like a toddler in tantrum,

kicking and screaming I enter His presence.

“Why one step ahead, two steps backward, Lord?”

the depths of me pour out, unchecked.

Now the sun creeps across my living room floor

to illuminate a sign on my fireplace shelf.

“Great is Thy Faithfulness”

and I am glad that I’m wearing no shoes

for I stand on holy ground.

Hands trembling from exhausted fits of fear,

I open my box of remembrance stones,

and pile stones upon a single sentiment

scrawled on lined paper.

“I choose joy.”

Now an altar rises

a permanent holy place, Bethel,

a monument marker between He and I.

I will not go back.

Sharing with elegant Emily…