While I was sick, the floor is splattered sticky, the toys strewn about, fights go unchecked, the snack drawer is raided, and the TV reigns supreme. We lay about lethargic numbed by the blue light and pacified by fairytales: ninjas captured in a genie's sword, 20-minute yard transformations, delectable bakes presented to judges, elves falling in love with humans, a pirate cat, polar bear, penguin, and rabbit rescuing sea creatures from human indifference. The mind as mush has no defenses against its messages. The bottom drops out from previously acquired pieties and the needy soul is laid bare. It wants sleep. It wants warmth. It wants another to shoulder responsibilities. It wants to know that everything will be alright. God, is your power really perfected in weakness, in a house falling foul, in unmonitored children and non-stop TV? Is your omnipotence manifested in a body ailing and a mind undisciplined wandering in hopeless desolations and previously prohibited reveries? Have you lost me as I lose faith in my goodness and strength? Will you still hold me if I cannot cling to you? Will you keep me if I'm suddenly rendered unable to morally move? Was I ever moving? I suppose not. But I thought I was. And through this stripping of illusions the truth is laid bare. You have bound my wandering heart to you keeping me righteous as I lose faith in me in order to recall faith in you.
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