11/13/18

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Day 125

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Father,

I can’t see

What You are doing.

The sky is dark &

Rain is pouring,

But I will not say,

“go away.” because

I know this is blessing:

The eggs & beans, the

way Dad makes tea the only 

Way I will drink it—with lots

Of brown sugar & milk, The

Way I watch him make me 

InLaugh over songs on the radio

Like he did when I was young.

The way he gives me almonds

& cheese curds—the two bowls

Of chili & kit kat bars when I am

Least expecting them. It is somewhere 

Between watching the finale of the Great 

British Baking Show or that Match 74 game

Show that I think about him again, what he 

Said, about dad and I having a relationship

& I think, this is it. I feel You so deeply when

We sit together with olives & cheese & pickles

& watching a show I didn’t think Dad would like

Is where I find Your face, And this is what I wish

I could explain to this guy who keeps stealing

my thoughts—do you ever think about the 

Simplest gift we all miss?—it is not the food &

drink—but Jesus’ presence in every face?

In ever sip of that drink? In ever bite before

The swallow? In the silence of not saying

At all, but soaking up the relationships we are

Given at birth? Presence. It is everything. 

But mostly God, I wonder why he keeps

Coming to mind—snippets of conversations 

When I am still & immersed in something

Else. I wonder if he thinks of these 

talks we had—the way I opened myself

up, Jesus, in a way I never knew I could—

I am grateful for him even if all he did 

Was help me see I can be open & make me 

Grateful for what is front of me. I

Still want to talk to him about You

Because I’ve felt that inner fire burning;

The joy of Your love 

& the connection we had,

Sharing about the day,

but all I can see is a dead

end.

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