Dios Consolare a Forza - God's Comfort and Strength. The words are written in green above my kitchen sink in my Mom's beautiful script. It is a place of prayer.
My hands sink into the soapy suds and I spend the next half hour or so washing and scrubbing things spotless. There are some chores in which I especially find the silver lining of indulgence. The satisfaction in doing them carries a bit of the feeling of privilege. As I work to remove the film of food and grease, rewarded with leaving each piece squeaky clean, the act of being able to set just this small space right brings me a settled contentment.
Humming along to the Christian radio station, I tenderly join in harmonizing to Lead Me by Sanctus Real. Remembering the difficult early years of my marriage, our lostness without a clue as to how to find our way to all we'd wanted when we first wed and made those impossible vows. Prayers of thankfulness for all the Lord has done fill my mind, and they flow into requests for my children and their future spouses, that they would all seek His provision and guidance. May they never take lightly the honor allowed them to seek the Lord of all for assistance and ability to walk rightly with another, and I pray they will perpetually seek his storehouses.
I listen to a familiar and beautiful recount of God's handiwork in the history of time and man. It is a wonderful 'bible in song'. I impulsively raise my hands and a bit too loudly resound, "He died for my sins, and He rose again!" I suppose that really can't be sung too loudly, can it? None of my children come looking to see what's got me so worked up so I guess I'm alright. Mama's praising.
The other night, I lay in bed trying to pull my diverse and sundry thoughts together and make them behave and sit quietly while I spent time considering my God and Savior. His majesty. His wonder. His glory. They refused to comply, and time and time again I would realize I had once again unwittingly followed after a wandering one. I chastened myself for such inept focus. How can one not realize the truth in, "the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak?" As is my overstimulated mind, at times behaving just as a wayward child distracted by the butterflies and clouds of thought.
But as I praise the Lord in melody, I know He smiles at his scatter-brained child. The words above me were chosen because of who He has shown Himself to be. Compassionate, never failing, forgiving, hope granting, mighty to save.
Rinsing my hands and drying them, I know that more than dishes have been cleansed and refreshed at my sink once again.