Trying to be enough, I sometimes crack and crumble into myself. It doesn’t have to make sense; I’m spent, sapped, stripped –  not enough. Their needs easily outstrip my resources, but my heart reflexively responds anyway, trained like the muscle it is.  So, mirroring a widow who lived in the ancient past I make a cake for a prophet and prepare the guestroom, send her off to school, fight for his support, juggle, tap dance, trapeze into another day and…

believe past impossible
clearing channels to the Source
where enough comes from

trusting that …The jar of flour was not spent, neither did the jug of oil become empty, according to the word of the Lord…

© 2016 – Laurel Archer

PS – there is a strange alchemy in all this — impossible seems to be an ingredient of the recipe as are the rainbow of human emotions associated with it all — it’s not all effort and exertion, but it does require full participation, oh yes and plenty of frustration.  At least that’s how I know it…

Photo Credit -Laurel Archer, Pixabay
Poetry form – Haibun

1 Kings 17:8-16 – Elijah and the Widow at Zarephath