I sat at my kitchen table, crumbling thyme I had previously hung from the bottom cupboards in the kitchen. It was hard not to let my mind wander to the last year as I methodically stripped off dried leaves from woody stems into the large stainless steel bowl.
An unexpected diagnosis of Down Syndrome with our newest baby.
Months of working alongside my husband to create his business website.
Crumble, crumble, crumble.
Finishing (more like putting up with) the last class for my masters in Holistic Nutrition.
Questions of purpose in homeschooling, followed by sister pains of mommy-guilt and mommy-inadequacy. A rebellious 5 year old. A 3 year old that insists on soiling his pants because, well, it’s warm and it’s his. A 7 year old beginning speech therapy. A 9 year old beginning to sprout his rooster feathers and an 11 year old showing emotional signs of pre-puberty.
I think I am better at crumbling thyme. It is safer and the aroma is somewhat comforting, like winter slow cooking.
And yet Jesus sends whispers. New creation. Renew your mind. You are mine. Follow me.
You, Lord, will I follow. Nothing seems scary when the Light is near.