The oven is on at 350 and the Cranberry-Orange cookies are baking and perfuming the kitchen. I'm standing in the middle of the floor as Selim comes flying in and jumps into my arms. My thoughts are a jumble. I'm singing to Mary Chapin Carpenter's Come Darkness, Come Light --
Come darkness, come light
Come new star, shining bright
Come love to this world tonight
Come broken, come whole
Come wounded in your soul
Come anyway that you know
Come doubting, come sure
Come fearful to this door
Come see what love is for
Come running, come walking slow
Come weary on your broken road
Come see Him and shed your heavy load
At the same time as I'm trying to sing, I'm warmed by the big-boy body in my arms and can't wrap my mind around what the parents of the children killed in the mass shooting in Newtown, CT must be thinking and feeling. I want to squeeze him tighter, but I don't want to frighten him. I don't know how much he is aware of what happened yesterday. I wasn't home last and so I don't if he watched the news last night or not. As I listened to the reports yesterday, it was the first time that home schooling every flickered through my mind as a viable option. I hug him closer, and sway to the music, tears threatening to splash over my lashes.
While that was running through my mind, I feel the longing from the song playing. I want the new Master to make His presence known so that I can bring my weary soul to His door. I want to go running and shed my heavy load. There are times that I feel desperate for my child to have that experience of sitting before a perfect soul and stare into One who has the eyes that are so full of grace. When? Oh, God, when?