Master Storyteller
today was a gut punch. a devil on the side. and we sort of knew it but still it kicked our fannies. hannah and i couldn't find a groove to save our lives. my face looks like a 13 year old who just got hormones and it was the first grey morning in over 40 days. i couldn't shake the heavy and the fear. i gave up on fights like recommending clothing for Hannah and thus here was the outfit we sported in all its polka dot and shimmer glory -
and i gave into sleep instead of responsibility and crashed for the entire time Hannah napped. I just kept thinking how brief this "security" felt. how nauseating the sight of a resume is in this house. when stephen got home i was outside on the sidewalk with the nebs as Hannah, Desian, and Tyrell zoom past on scooter, bike and foot. it was happy hour and even with a smooth beer in hand, i saw his eyes, and i watched his gait and i knew it got him too. his eyes gave away defeat.
so today is less favorite but as it comes to a close there are two things I am thinking about, 1. His mercies are new every morning. Thank goodness. 2. I read today in Don Miller's book that we think that God is being unjust when we don't recognize the master storyteller. huh. So, write on God. Tomorrow is a new day.