Anymore,
not a literal lamb but a figurative sheep;
instead of unbroken bones, a broken heart;
in the place of a firstling of our flock -
all
of our
heart,
might,
mind,
and
strength;
rather than unblemished skin, a flawed & contrite spirit;
giving up not the first and best but all of our worst;
sacrificing ourselves
- not just a symbol of Him -
until we become One, too.
There is nothing poetic
about waiting until the kids are in bed
to replace a toilet’s wax ring.
The caulk I applied
a month ago
(after replacing the last wax ring)
is deteriorating
and has me worried that I did something wrong.
There is something comforting
about learning I actually had
installed the former wax ring correctly
but also frustrating
that I am redoing it.
There is something confusing
about thinking I knew why the caulk was cracking
only to realize the root problem
must be otherwise than I thought.
Thank goodness for my father & father-in-law
whom I can call for suggestions.
After yet another trip to the hardware store,
I hope I can resolve the problem
tomorrow.
I hope also that I can have
something useful to say
when my son
or son-in-law
calls me
years from now,
10:30 at night
mid-project.
That might be poetic.
