cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Errreeeeooooo-errreeeeooooo-errreeeeoooooo-errreeeeooooo. I looked down after sitting attached to the human milking machine (if you know, you know) for 35 minutes only to see 1 ounce total compiled by my milk machines. After so much of my time and life connected to that damn pump, I was so over it.
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I stared at her angelic form swaddled beneath the moonlit window. She was so sweet, so small, so fragile. Who was I to bear the responsibility of her, to soothe her fevers and give her direction, to train her and teach her about God and the world? I watched her breathe, in and out, in…
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I have believed in prayer since I was a little girl.
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