[gallery link="file" columns="5"] No matter how well you put it together. The height of the work of your hands, the weight, significance and value, the pride of day and sweat of your brow... accomplishment, possession, power... nothing is as meaningful as opening your hands. Letting go of what you cherish. Feeling the wind move through fingers once clinched in defiance and desperation holding white knuckled strong to rust and rot. It all goes away. I mistake moments and memories as forever. I hold tight and run in circles chasing moments fleeing. The moments don’t matter.
Sunlight turns the page of a new day. Its warmth wakes the day, ushers in change as beams of light flood and fill, search and kill the silence and cool of night when memories are awake and moments live forever. I feel asleep in yesterday. The ease of then invites sleep. Some days I do not make it past morning. Waking to a new day is just too uncomfortable. I go back to bed before noon just going through the rest of my day in motions. I am indifferent. I am defiant. In protest. I want today and long for tomorrow but I put a heavy foot in yesterday because it’s easier and I know who I am or who I was then. Rotting. Rusting. I don’t want to be there. Knowing where else to be, now, is foreign.
Foreign. Free. It comes at a cost. Yesterday.
Bury your broken heart into the dirt of today. Every day. Surrender. Lose to the current swiftly running foaming grace and mercy and finding. Let go of breaking branches. Sink deeply into love today while adoring the beauty behind.
Little eyes are waiting, watching and wanting.
Today’s heaviness relents to the reminder of surrender and the release of all my hands try to hold onto.
'... but joy comes with the morning.' Psalm 30:5, ESV