From what you might ask? Almost everything.
I am sighing, and focusing just to keep from not taking a break.
My life this past week has been like a potluck dinner, where everyone brought the same thing. And It was your most least favorite dish. Imagine that!
---------------------- insert whatever it is that you would never want brought to your potluck dinner. That was my week.And it was hominy cassarole, every day. Acky!
So for a break.... I will think of something pleasant. Even lovely perhaps.
Such as beautiful mornings, with the sun shining, the birds singing and the blossoming trees of early spring. And the ever so lovely quietness, just right before the busyness of the day begins.
Those are the moments, when I can breath.
My mother had the most beautiful hands, especially when in motion. She was one of those people who talk with their hands often, worked hard with her hands, and produced the most beautiful music with them.I wrote this for her a long time ago.
Unfortunately she never read it, she has been gone a long while.
Hands In Motion
Hands in movement, produce an image.
A language so profound
Working, shaping, molding and making.
Rebuking in their shaking.
Proclaiming in their raising.
Safety when their yeilding.
Patiently waiting while folded, all the while
holding the potential blessing for a child.
Searching while turning pages.
Carrying promises through the ages.
Clasped, holding hope while in prayer.
Greeting while waving in the air.
Bearing frustration in a clenched fist.
A joyful flip, while the jest.
Still, only in moments of rest.