Shadow and Light

I hardly ever think of it anymore.

The dark in that shadow.


The chill.

The lonely of a sad childhood.


I didn't outrun it, though I probably tried.


But I have danced in the light of attachment and acceptance.

I have lingered in the glow of unconditional love.

I know the warmth of tender embrace.


I didn't run.

Couldn't run.


I turned to face the Son.


blessings in abundance:

the curl of her eyelashes on a soft cheek as she sleeps

the smell of maple syrup as she holds tightly to my face during early Mass

a chilly walk when I didn't want to

a rousing rendition of "Father Abraham"

and the equally compelling "Jesus Loves Me"

new knitting lessons

endless squares of fiber while I sit and listen to him

God's voice in the early morning: Collossians, Matthew

tea without sugar

basketball in the driveway

fish tacos: no meat, no wheat, no dairy.

old friends

a cup of soup offered when I'm so very hungry and it looks like there's nothing to eat

a wink and a smile--and I remember that I'm not crazy

March Madness

a big stack of picture books

baby bedtimes