I Surrender- Part 2

I gently lifted my head. I had just woken from having laid Seth down to sleep. I could still feel the residual affect of lost sleep from over the weekend, as I lugged my feet from his room into the kitchen.  Remains of our dinner time dishes cover almost all of our gray counter top.  I stare at them with heaviness, as I consider they will not wash themselves.  Heavy on my soul was the longing for solitude.  In the solitude of their stare, I walk a few feet to the kitchen table where the songs play from our Bose stereo.


Already feeling somber, the words to "I Surrender" by Hillsong, pull my body to the floor with magnetic force, as it welcomes me into a bed of emotional release.  My lament dripping into a puddle of painful longing's far beneath words.

"Here I am, down on my knees again, surrendering all, surrendering all.  And find me here, Lord as you draw me near, I'm desperate for You, I'm desperate for You, I surrender, I surrender."

Pounding with intense precision against the ocean floor of my heart, is an underpinning baseline.

Rhythmic exhales surge. 

Sorrows spill forth in a geyser of emotion, shaking generational stones of foundation laid with inadequacy. Spitting forth shame through cracks of crooked thinking, I'm forced to choose how to wipe it off alongside notes serenading a magnitude of lies, that sing well outside the normal key, of deception. Waves and waves of minor chords flow anew, washing over the many minor colored laps of lamenting against the rocky shores of my heart.  


Once again, my gaze turns toward the sink filled with dishes. 

Rising out of obligation, I obediently lift the faucet into a warm flow of comforting liquid. Just as I rose out of obedience as a child, I rise now as an adult.  Rising into the obligation of keeping everything together, so as to not let fall what might tragically- shatter into unrepairable fragmented pieces. 

I strive- passionately to hold others together, so they too might not fragment into shards of wounded glass.  Reaching out to grab the hands of circumstance in a dance of grace,

I believe for at least just a second- that I have something of rescue to offer. 

And, as I do, a faucet of memory is opened.  Gushing forth- anguish. A scorching burn of silence- while the clash of silverware fall into the sink.  Leaving my hands as though the grip of love, was not enough.

Unhealed chaos chiseled into crevices that conceal themselves, like a chameleon conceals himself among the changing tones of the day...