Why God Doesn’t Catch Me When I Fall: Imperfect Prose

I pitter patter through patty pan, squashing ants and pulling wayward weeds, praying for roots.

The cat’s been pooping in the green beans again, so we’ll wash them once they’re big and grown. The pincer bugs hurry by, waving weird appendages as they tumble over twigs while two orange dragonflies spin in the sun. I buy the sort of snail killer that says “SNAIL KILLER” in bright red angry letters.

I sprinkle death with glee, waiting for empty shells.

The wind is blowing ghost children in the swings again, and since my second son, I have had broken feelings…

Hey Party People! Join me over at Emily’s place where I’m guest posting today. You can link up your own story of imperfection there as well. I’d love to read it.

6 thoughts on “Why God Doesn’t Catch Me When I Fall: Imperfect Prose

  1. oh, my. of course this is beautiful writing, because it comes from your heart and soul and touches mine. as for your son, “why doesn't God catch me when i fall?” is a question that must resonate with every child of God at some point or other. may you, sweet friend, be given all grace for the weak and broken places. (i'm not supposed to be looking at the computer because it's making my head hurt right now, but i saw this title and had to read…)

    Like

  2. Hi Joann, my sister told me I should stop by and I am glad I did! Your very first line resonates with me fiercly: “I pitter patter through patty pan, squashing ants and pulling wayward weeds, praying for roots.”
    One gigantic sigh…

    Like

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