Mermaid Tears
She wakes up each morning and always her first thoughts are of her babies. Their mere existence depends solely on her, what a responsibility. Little things become "centers" anchors of security. The memory of these simple things will exist in her mind and heart long after the babies have grown and gone. They will remain as alters, monuments to those particular segments of time in her life. The old wash basin, the one that would be used for a washing machine, if she could afford one. She's found that she can wash her clothes in this basin, bathe her babies in this basin, wash it out and fill it up with water for cleaning the house. At this moment in time, it has become a sense of security. The babies can't fall out when she bathes them, the sides are too high. Security. Comfort.
He watches over her, whether she realizes it or not. Quietly, calmly providing for her. Even that old wash basin is a gift, a sense of peace and security, delivered on an earthly plain. He sees her tears that fall into that basin as she scrubs and cleans and cares. He catches each one and puts them in a bottle, to Him, every tear matters.
He watches over her, whether she realizes it or not. Quietly, calmly providing for her. Even that old wash basin is a gift, a sense of peace and security, delivered on an earthly plain. He sees her tears that fall into that basin as she scrubs and cleans and cares. He catches each one and puts them in a bottle, to Him, every tear matters.
