I fold laundry and I pray.
I pray over each sweet piece of fabric.
Each shirt, pair of pants.
I hold them close.
I pray for this college girl who is home.
Home to celebrate the life of her cousin.
Taken too soon;
in our eyes.
And I make piles.
I love to fold laundry.
I love the smell.
But I can't ever seem to to get the piles to their respective owners.
Piles begat piles.
Why is that?
Why can't it ever be finished.
It seems to be my albatross.
Is it that way with your faith.
Are you able to get to a certain point. . .
And then all unravels.
Doubt begats doubt.
Am I really worthy enough?
Can God really love me enough?
Do I really believe?
And what do I really believe?
As I put away the laundry and continue the cycle.
I ponder these things.
I pray for the ache in our hearts.
I pray for the memories that were. . .
and those that will never be.
I take the ache piled upon ache and lay it at the foot of the cross.
I am not able to handle this alone.
The weight too grand.
As I put each pile away.
I imagine physically handing my cares to God.
I tuck them into the drawers.
He is more than able.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,
None of this caught God by surprise.
He is walking this journey with us.
He will receive the glory and honor.
His name will be praised.
We will continue to stand on the rock that never moves.
2 Corninthians 4:8-9