You know what they say about home being where the heart is? My home has always been with a person. It’s no place. Every place I have lived has only been a place I lived but never home. The one constant has been my mother’s presence and wherever she is has always been home for me.
The knowledge I have now of my mother’s weakness and sickness makes me feel like my home is slowly crumbling in my hands. My hands are so weak, it’s like I can’t get a grip of anything; they just keep breaking into pieces and falling through the spaces that separate my useless and helpless hands.
When your anchor and love lie in one person, what do you do when the anchor is weak and shaking ? When all of your consolation for every adversity small or big has always been the presence of the anchor, where does the heart turn when the anchor needs support and all you’ve got is 10 weak fingers, light wrists and feathery arms trying to hold things down? When everything within the grip simply turns to dust, and every speck of dust that drops leaves a piece of the heart sinking along ?
Daddy God, hold my home together. Strengthen her, and breathe healing, restoration, and joy into my mother — our anchor, our rock, Your faithful servant, my home. When she is weak, everything feels shaken. Please make our home whole again.
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