And I remember that vision on the church wall in Mexico, of me filling cup after cup and handing them one at a time to children in such a long line that it reached out the door. But I didn't know they would first spit in the cup and then throw it back in my face.

O LORD, I am not proud; I have no haughty looks. I do not occupy myself with great matters, or with things that are too hard for me. But I still my soul and make it quiet, like a child upon its mother’s breast; my soul is quieted within me. Psalm 131:1–3

Lord God, almighty and everlasting Father, You have brought me in safety to this new day: Preserve me with Your mighty power, that I may not fall into sin, nor be overcome by adversity; and in all I do direct me to the fulfilling of Your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen.

And really, all I have to do is make it through one more day. That’s it. And today is going to suck me into its veritable hurricane of spinning dust and rocks and twigs and busted bits and may I be in His stillness.

A child at rest on her mother’s breast.

And Everette always reaches up and holds an earlobe. Or fondles the wrinkly elbow skin. And is comforted by presence.

May my soul be quieted.

It’s not about me.

Soft is stronger than hard. Water is stronger than a rock.

Release.