Yesterday morning I was in the bathroom, tidying up and muttering to myself about how I just couldn't pick up after three people every day all day long and ever do anything else, and I was just so overwhelmed, and grumble, grumble, growl, ad nauseam.
Faelan came in and asked, "Talking to Daddy?"
"No," I said, feeling sheepish. "I'm talking to myself."
He gave me a dubious look, thought a minute, and then decided, "Talking to heaven." I was startled, and ashamed, and grateful.
"No," I said, "but that's a really good idea. Thank you for reminding me." And then I did say a word or two to the Trinity, though mostly the Spirit, since I was pretty incoherent. The day was brighter after that.
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Part of my father's ashes went into the creek running through the farm that he loved, eventually down to the Gulf, and from there, who knows? His children went out into the world, married, had their own children, who go out into the world, and from there, who knows? God knows. And He gave us children to remind us that we have great obligations, and great blessings.
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