Squash Blossoms
Tissue paper orange,
backlit by the sun, the
first sign that something
I planted is bearing fruit.
You pray at dinnertime:
“God, thank you for the
blue truck and for butter,”
then add: “And sometimes
I need Your help.” Maybe
I am not just a tired mother
as I have felt lately, but an
occasional spiritual guide
to the next generation of
saints, redeeming my own
failures as a picture of what
it means to trip and reach
out two arms to Christ.
Reading this was like basking in warm rays of sunlight:)
You are a faithful steward of the gifts entrusted to you by our Heavenly Father.