From The Cave: spring approaches, prayers are said

At night, I nurse Isaiah to sleep while Travis reads books in bed with Eliot and then sings him to slumber.

In my day, it’s the quiet reprieve, some of my most cherished moments. I read while I wait for  Travis to come out, or I read until I think he’s dozed off by Eliot’s side in bed.

We whistle for each other when we need each other but don’t want to yell–so I whistle, and wait for him to stir.

These past few weeks have been draining, to put it lightly. We go to bed before 10, hoping to sleep 2-3 hours at a time during the night. It’s interrupted by nursing, teething, fevers and runny noses, sore throats and the need to cuddle a little closer.

All the men in this house have been sick for days, so on top of the emotional exhaustion, there is another thick layer of weariness.

At Christmastime we stayed with Trav’s parents, and when we left I forgot one of my favorite books.

Yours Is The Day, Lord, Yours Is The Night is a book of morning and evening prayers compiled by Jeanie and David Gushee, and in our life, it’s done things no other book has.

It’s brought healing, lit dark corners, even welcomed Isaiah into the world with a prayer that he would love justice.

It came back to us in the mail yesterday, and tears sprang forth at the sight of the blue and white cover.

Eliot brought the book to me, calling it our “Bible.”

I opened to February 18th and told him I was going to read today’s prayer, so he dropped his toy and closed his eyes in toddler-reverence.

O Jesus,

Keep me under the standard of Your cross.

Let me not just look at You crucified,

but have You living in my heart.


-Bernadette of Lourdes (1844-1879)

The weather outside has been utterly refreshing with the promise of spring.

Though we know that there will be at least one more tough frost, birds have returned to trees and sunshine has broken through gray clouds, and the sky has slowly returned to its happy blue.

We wait in this frozen season of unknown, of endless duties that are a pleasure and a pain all in one. We’ve been in a cave, screening emails and phone calls, hoping for fresh sunlight to peek through the tiny holes above our heads.

And we wait, because spring will come, and in the meantime, we will read our prayers and live the ancient words as best we can, having faith as best we know how.

And we will pray in the night, while reading and nursing and singing. We will pray along with the ancient voices,

Each day and night, grant us Thy peace. 

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