He is Able

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. 

This college girl who has lost a brother too. 

And I make piles. 

Neat piles. 

I love to fold laundry. 

I love the smell. 

Shirts together. 

Pants together. 

Unmentionables together. 

Neat piles. 

Clean. 

Orderly. 

But I can't ever seem to to get the piles to their respective owners. 

Ever. 

Piles begat piles. 

And the orderly becomes chaos. 

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 able. 

He is more than able. 

Ephesians 3:20

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,

Once again. 

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. 

We will bend our knees and lift our hands high. 

2 Corninthians 4:8-9

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair;  persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.