Today, trepid I write. I have thought and I have prayed and still, uncertainty. And so I am doing what I always do, I pen ~ sometimes while my mind whirls ~ scratched on white, life lits shadows and clarity emerges. I wonder how to journal to the world? Transparent to strangers? Can I be safe here on these pages, scrawl my story between beauty?

I have Ecclesiastes days. Days where I wonder if I am but a vapour, a wisp of fading wind. Heavy days of wondering if everything turns out to be nothing. I post here about beauty ~ blessing and I soak in the rays that heaven shines brilliant, but there are other days, darker yet. Days I wrestle with God. I have prayed for a deep change of soul, and He, faithful, answers. But then a violent torrent of weeding. Why does the miracle of his purity strip me raw. I wonder does he really know what he is doing? Is trust, really, enough?

I ask ~ Is trust, really, enough?

I was full with the expectancy of another baby, born black under the African sky, his Mother’s voice pled months, his life to be grafted into mine. Every time I walked away, needing to know her heart was strong enough to give her birthed love, to another race of mothers. Every time she wished it again, begged strong and clear. I trusted, a guiding voice, following faith. Hours of paper work and lawyers and prayers and a welling hope that he, saved from poverty, a life transfigured,

~
Innocent
~

I dreamed of a new life for him, safe in my cradling arms.
And then just like that, it all ended, unexpectedly.

I wrestle, a tight hand on God, How? Why?

I weep grief!
God leads me painfully dark, examining deep…

~

These evenings, here in my red earth home, have been talk filled, of a move. A Spring return to our North Country, I look deep inside and wonder, can I give up an adventure that I have allowed to define me?
I examine… can I do this change, back to ‘normal’?

~

I pull books off shelves, summon learners, teach intellect, muster patience. We go again, another round. A few hours later, I clean up, tidy the mess.
I am led to examine my motives…



I receive a surprise mail from my husband, he finalised the purchase I was too busy to complete. A pair of Berks ~ perfect comfort. Joy, tags a cloud of thoughts. My life is changing, I need good shoes, support to my hours on foot, am I growing age? Young still I know, but time is slipping fast.
Examination of youthful years ~ my now ~ future looming…

This is where all my life details settle: definition. Traveller, Beauty-Finder, Mother, Teacher, Wife and I love my life!

But God he is seeing these title comforts, and he is asking for them. I am fear wondering… If the letters behind me name, read blank…

I write fearfully honest, have I been looking for a title? That of a Mother ~ an armload of colours, unconventional teacher, darer of nations, constant adventurer?

And this, this is the clarity I needed.

Heaven wants my name to read ~ servant ~ nothing more.

Heaven asks my fibres to splinter bleed ~ Cross.

And he asks for it all, to gain ~ death-life.

And I, humbled, thrash desperate. Timorous!

Can I do this?