From the kitchen window, a broom stands askew against the garage door.

What lies beyond the door of this day, off center and lopsided? I wonder.

Rinsing my cup, I listen to the water rushing from the faucet through my fingers. Cup shines. Will I? Who can bear the stains?

First, a test from Sunday’s sermon. “That’s too much to expect,” my husband says in the car ride home after hearing a message on unspeakable joy.

“That’s the point,” I say. “Through faith we learn to rise above situations.”

He shakes his head. Then I shake mine.

Monday morning, my chest burns by 9:00 a.m. My cheeks grow hot with humiliation by the 11:00 o’clock hour. Crushing sadness strikes at 4:00.

What of this joy? I wonder…

But while the broom stands askew, I see the door of Grace open.

_______

Feature photo by Christian Fregnan

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