My mother pokes her head into my room. Clothes are scattered across the floor books pushed onto the shelf, everything a mess, she ignores it and calls for me.
I cover her voice with my pillow.
Again she calls and I move George so I can hear. She calls me to the couch.
Crawling across my sister I am able to place my feet on the floor and stumble through the hallway and across the carpet to the foot of the couch. And I let my fragile body fall to the comfort of the course fabric. My eyes half shut stare into my mother’s peaceful shining ones.
Soon my brother joins me and Mickey places herself next to my mom.
She speaks and her voice holds sorrow, but peace. The TV is on and music streams through its speakers and she pours out her heart.
Tears run down rivers across my face, they form streams as I listen. Her words touch my sister, my brother is still half sleeping.
The morning is spent with us, all but my brother, spent with us praying, deep, powerful, yearning prayers. I open my mouth and let praise flow across my heart and into the crisp air. Prayers to the only one who ca answer.
In Christ Alone ~EleyanaFaith