of what doesn’t make sense

we have this need, don’t we,
to make sense of what doesn’t

to figure out the why
sometimes becomes very important,
almost urgent

I wonder if we get that from our mothers
or our fathers
or from the One who created us

though of course I feel fairly
certain there are times when
even the One who painted the sky
that brilliant cerulean hue
and strung the stars across the darkened dome
cannot figure out why the things that happen
happen as they do

and in those moments I feel God squatting down
beside me
helping me pick up the pieces left over
after the storm has blown through
gently, quietly there
patiently handing me what is left
to begin again

it reminds me how, when the Lego habitat vehicle creature
has been demolished by a careless hand or movement,
I wipe the tears and
kneel down beside the one whose heart is broken,
picking up the pieces one by one and handing them back
to my little one
whispering encouraging words,
in the hopes that soon, in his own time,
he will find the strength, desire, and courage
to try to build it again,
maybe even better this time

once his heart begins healing
and he no longer seeks to make sense
of the chaos that ensued

and instead
bit by bit
moves on, beyond,
leaving some questions asked
unanswered
and yet, somehow, in the presence
of rainbows and the One who lined up
those colors
just so
finds peace
and rests in that
one more night

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