waterfalls i live beneath...

I see the smiling glasses transfigured eyes of my 1^st grade sweet son

I feel his still so soft hand slide into mine as I walk him home

Tenderly caressing his earlobe as I always have

Love sheltering us both from the embarrassment of someone seeing 

And thinking he is too old for affection

All I can think is he could have been a loss, tragic and true

But instead he was a face crowded by a pacifier

Peacefully sipping on dreams, nursing at a breast long waiting to be life to a child

I hear the clip clop of pink plastic sleeping beauty heels

On the small daughter with the side ponytail

 And tendrils dripping down her cheeks

In the dress she wore to look like mommy

On the walk to get her brother

All I can think is she could have been a miscarriage; silent and dark

But instead she was a tiny cry bursting with breath

Smelling sweet to her daddy’s senses pressing his face into her neck

Drinking her in like cool sweet clean water in a long dry desert day

Do I know faith and its fruits?

Shall I accept the good and not the bad?

Is a baby that lives the fulfillment of my faith?

Or is it found in the rest I find

When I throw my hands up in surrender

And yield to who You are and who I am not?

Here I sit crumpled up in sobs undone on the kitchen floor beneath my skin

Sprawled under a waterfall of gratefulness