candle is orange flicker in window; our silhouettes: trent, baby on lap, bible in hand, me beneath afghan boasting colors of joseph's coat...
tv is silent. black screen turned away from our vespers, our silent night, our whispered song to the God we seek. we're taking this week away from bowls of popcorn and sitcom-laughs; we're stealing it back to kneel here at the foot of the cross, or on the cush of leather couch, to hear from heaven, to bend down way down with babe in hand, and learn God's will for our future.
we will do this every night, until the end of the week. and already, tuesday morning, surprise answer to candle-prayers; a phone call from friends telling us they'll drive out a load of our belongings, drive them in their trailer. saving us from buying another vehicle and yet another trailer. letting our family cling together on the 40-hour highway winding west.
as they spoke into phone, telling us this, tears kissed cheeks and my soul twisted in agonized praise. i couldn't fathom the love that provided, protected and pleased. still cannot.
so i sit with my baby and my husband in the whisper of holy light, read words off transparent scripture-paper and stumble over prayer-words, in hopes of meeting Love here.
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