Liquid Sky

My husband returns to work this morning and when the alarm gives its earnest cry, this body responds as to an emergency. And isn’t it just? Parting after so many days filled with shared moments? Even for a few hours, just a short day, he says; I don’t want him to leave. I rise just to listen to the way the weight of his steps shift my world.

While he showers and makes ready, I watch red move like water over the sky. Nascent light leaks through the edge of the horizon and just like that, the night is shed. I remember how my mother would wake before the light—make the coffee, pack my father’s lunch, and move like a ghost through our home. I was a shadow—how I could creep—and I found her, quiet, sitting at the kitchen table after his departure. Did she feel this sort of empty then?

My parents, long separated and remarried, did they feel this burning in their hearts for each other once? As I watch the liquid sky, I think how love can move this way too—silently seeping out the cracks of our horizons, shedding dark, shedding light … only those with open eyes to bear witness.

I promise myself I will keep my eyes open. I will gather up these liquid moments in the cup of my heart and carry them into all the days. When the days hum back to normal and parting seems no longer an emergency … I will bear witness to love.

Comments

  1. DeanneMoore says

    This morning is silent with the doc out with our boys duck hunting—his first chance to go with them this season. He lives life in a rush. When he’s on call his phone is set to the sound of alarm, like an emergency, and sometimes it is being that he’s a baby doctor. We had a bittersweet Christmas and are wriggling into life as parents of adults —and grandparents. We step gently into our different path as we walk the well-worn as well. God has already laid the word on my heart for the coming year…last year ‘courage.’ this year, ‘open.’ I making the “eyes open” promise too.

  2. kingfisher says

    Your writings are always so precious, so well-crafted, so tender, Laura. What a blessing that you’re constantly developing your writing skills so your word-pictures may rebound with the glory of God. Oh, yes, just keep on gathering up liquid moments in the cup of your heart.

    I think of you often. Missing those days when we had a chance to talk. But you have moved on to other fields of ministry, and I know your essence blesses many people.

  3. Mia says

    Dear Laura
    Oh, I am so sorry that you had to experience the divorce of your parents! It is not easy to love and love through that. It makes your love and gentleness towards others stand out so much more. You are truly your husband’s crown. I wish you a Jesus filled New Year.
    Blessings XX
    Mia

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *