for the days that are too much

"Your keys are already in your car," Mary told me as I left the house. It didn't phase me, until I stepped outside to the sound of my car running, the vents turned all the way up to melt the frost and warm my bones. 

"You are loved," she told me.

The gesture that brought tears helped me to start a day on gratefulness. Yet it grew into one of those days that felt like too much, like him not getting breakfast until after 10 and no time for a lunch break- instead distractedly eating an apple as I sat at my desk, saddened when the first bite revealed a rotten, brown core. Or then the arm brace he's supposed to wear at night keeps him awake in pain, forgetting to call the doctor back, and not getting pills ready for the morning. All on a night when my body needs to be out the door at 6:30 am. in a few short hours.

These are the days that feel like too much, that this isn't what I asked for because stress brought from the little just reminds me of the bigger losses I have.

But then there are the sweet gifts, like the new book in the mail that will show me god. The three hours by the fire with a girlfriend and his smile when I come into the room late. 

The fire and the conversation with her and the staying up late with him is worth it. Because those are the moments where I get to live and breathe.

Those are the moments where I see God filling me up, filling my emptiness.