help me

breathing

Help.  I write the word in plum today, and in the curve of the e, the marker squeaks against the whiteboard.  Help really isn’t the right word.  It’s as inadequate as the word serve for describing what we do for God.  Learn would be the better verb if this schedule were truly about accuracy, but from my son’s perspective, help will do.  I’m training a soul first, a body second, and attitude supercedes activity.

Morning chores
BREAKFAST
Help Mom clean the kitchen

I smile, thinking back to brassy pictures of me as a child, standing on a stool at the sink with dish towel in hand, little-girl sleeves rolled up to the elbows.  Back then, I had the theory that my parents asked me to help so that they would have less work to do. Because of my forced labor, their lives were easier.  They got to…

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