I am listening, listening to my mother talk to Andrew as they play with the Play-Do he brought yesterday... He calls her "grandma" and tells her the Play-Do is "mine." It is rare for her to sit at the dining room table and interact with him while playing, but this is what I once expected she would do.
I have escaped to my computer room where I can see the play area and still find myself somewhat secluded. I long for a few hours alone, yet am not quite certain what I would do with the time if given the chance... probably squander it.. or maybe I should say relish in it and do little of any significance. Maybe I would just soak it in, breathe a sigh of contentment, close my eyes, and go to sleep.
My ears are tired. Tired of repeated questions, tired of continual commentary, and yet one day I will surely long for these days. How can one be so fickle? Why can I not muster up the feelings I know are good and right? It is the strength of God that must found in these times, but it does not come without an effort on my part to at the very least let go of me, and I find my fists so tightly clenched. "God, pry my clenched fist open... Open my hands to freely give and receive Your love."