she ran through the kitchen where i was frying pancakes on hot cast iron, little girl with blondish-brown ponytail trailing behind her. she was running, that’s what they do, & as she pumped past the fridge she chanted, “inhale, outhale. inhale, outhale. inhale, outhale.”
i stood stunned, stainless steel spatula in hand. hallelujah wisdom from my 7-girl.
isn’t that just it?
when i’m cramming breakfast into schoolwork into reading time into. . .too much.
inhale, outhale.
when the baby wakes up before i’m finished chopping & the 4-boy is crying as the phone rings.
inhale, outhale.
when again the numbers don’t add to a full account.
inhale, outhale.
when the bad news comes, the sick thickens, the laundry mounts, & you are left alone.
inhale, outhale.
in the words of an ancient, julian of norwich, a mantra i’ve circled around since college:
all shall be well & all shall be well & all manner of thing shall be well.
you’re not alone.
you don’t have to figure it out.
let the fear.stress.anxiety.wash over you.
come back to the Truth.
inhale, outhale.
jill in the box 