His four year old mind moves faster than the wind. Questions whipping about my frame, it's hard to take a breath.
Why and why and why. Oft times before I can answer, the next question is there begging to be answered.
And I wonder if that's how my conversations are with God.
Five o'clock. Ryan stepped through the door.
I said, "I'm going out to get the mail. I need ten minutes."
A slow walk to the box, the wind passing through my flowy skirt. An even slower walk back. I get to the door, but I'm not ready.
I lower my swollen body to the grass and face the sun. I still the questions swirling about my mind and reflect on the Son.
And I breathe [peace].
And I breathe [grace].
And I breathe [rest].
No lightning bolts or sudden revelations.
But it's enough. It is more than enough.