In the Gloaming

Last night's twilight finds me rocking a sleeping baby.  The house is quiet except for the creaking of the rocking chair and my voice softly, and somewhat off-key, singing hymns.  That chair has rocked several generations of this family.  Those songs have comforted us as well.  Rainbows from the slanting sunlight hitting prisms hanging in the windows frolic across the ceiling and walls.  The dappled light beneath the trees creates an impressionist's masterpiece painted by the hand of God.  A bluebird ventures from his home in the backyard to a branch in the front.  Bunnies hop with stems of clover in their mouths, the last meal of the day before darkness sets in.  It is a peaceful respite from the clamor of the day.

All around me there is disarray.  The baby has been restless most of the day.  Crying more than is his norm.  Intellectually, I know that babies cry, but in my heart it hurts to hear.   His parents are working hard to get moved into their new house, but with school and work and a baby, it is a slow process.  There is so much to do.   My own house is a mess. Until some projects are completed there is little hope for order.  Minor obstacles that will not matter a year from now.

Within me there is a tangle of confusion.  Family members who are hurting because the need to downsize has arisen.  They are packing.  They are leaving a house that holds many memories.  They are wise to understand that they are leaving a house.  They are not leaving their home, for where they are together is home.  But, still, there is poignancy in the move.  I am feeling that for them as I rock that sweet baby in the gloaming.

Within me lies a broken heart for a friend who is dealing with devastating loss.  It is an event that will matter a year from now.  The loss will forever change the topography of her life's map.  I find myself voicing my anger at God for the loss.  We have begged on our faces at the Father's feet for relief, and it seems that our pleas go unheard.  I do not have fear that voicing anger to and at God will bring down upon me some terrible calamity.  I know that He can take my anger and frustration.   My anger is a sign of my faith.  Because of that sweet baby in my arms, my railing is done silently, but I know that I am heard.  When oh, Lord, will you bring my friend relief and the desires of her heart?  And, still, I live with hope.  Some would call me foolish.  It is all that I know to choose as I rock and sing in the gloaming.

A writing in the paper this week has created angst in the heart of one I love dearly.   It is a puzzle that will never be put back together.  There are missing pieces and pieces from other puzzles that do not fit.  The most important piece is gone, and so befuddlement continues.  No logic can be applied to work it out.  As night falls, I ponder these things as I rock and sing in the gloaming.

As I breathe in the sweet warmth of a newly bathed baby, listen to the creak of an old rocker, weep for a wounded friend, enjoy the beauty of the dying day, I wish you hope for the future, courage for the moment, faith to sustain you, and I wish you

blessings