“Earth’s crammed with heaven” so the poem says.
My dirty dishes on the kitchen table at 10:34 pm are part of earth. My dirty kitchen that has not been cleaned since last night are a part of earth. A bit of a disagreement with my husband… part of earth. I am insecure and I am part of earth. Earth’s crammed with heaven.
So, the dishes, though dirty, seem to sparkle a little. The time I spent with Eli instead of doing dishes for the second night in a row, that’s heaven crammed in there for sure. The small disagreement? I’m about to go climb in bed where Patrik is sleeping, hug him, and accept that we both struggle and that we are both not just part of earth, but part of heaven too. My insecurities… I’ll hold them up and let the fire from Moses’s burning bush light them up and burn them up and leave me filled and glowing with God Himself, because He loves me.
I think I just took my shoes off, because this is holy ground. (I feel like saying that in a whisper, because it’s like a secret I’ve discovered.)