For Eyes To See

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end.

Little mercies matter.

What a terrifying two weeks. I have found it difficult to see mercy. These mini miracles, ‘something of which to be thankful for,’ have indeed appeared in-spite of me.

It was merely a matter of recognizing them.

The loan of my auntie’s little 1960’s guest house was a safe space in which I could retreat. Neighbored by two other family houses, I looked out across a valley where skirmishes of America’s Civil War were fought. Peaceful sunrise deer now occupied that historically bloody place. Nearly the color of the grass, they lowered their heads to graze. Sipping my Irish breakfast, I watched them partake of their provision through the black and white checkered kitchen curtains.

Visitors on the Southern front porch were another mercy. Six healthy grandchildren tramped up and down its wooden stairs. Oh, may I never forget that goodness.

My cousin walked across the yard from her bungalow and handed me a short mason jar stacked with four out-of-the-oven cookies. They were peanut butter.  It was my favorite. Food had lost some of its luster because our grandchild’s cancer detection had flattened all of life. But somehow the little sugar crystals sprinkled atop the forked criss cross pattern, sparkled and broke through my mood. Warm and bendy, it was a perfectly baked dough. Taste and temporary delight returned to my palette. Another wee mercy.

The sun set below the poplars as the massive trees casted leafy shadows on us. She and I talked.  We sweated in the August humidity. We complained about life stuff. And we worried. As the critters crescendoed, our words muffled by a winged chorus of bugs.

I was reminded of my own childhood this week. God was always faithful then. Surely, He would be now.

Little mercies mattered this week. And in review, they were not small at all.

#iloveLucy #cancersucks