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31 Days of Free Writes #Almost

Sometimes almost is a blanket.  It covers us in safety because things almost went horribly wrong, but didn't.  We stare ball faced and horrified at what could have gone wrong what almost did, but didn't.  We're gulping deep dregs of breath relieved that at the brink of almost we were saved.
I've almost lost a child or almost ruined my life.  Almost...
Sometimes almost though is more of a fist pump over our lives.  
"We're almost there."  I speak into the din of a noisy car.  And then I speak it again and again.  Inquiring minds want to know down to minutes and seconds. It's a beacon for a bathroom break and fresh air in everlasting car rides.
"I'm almost eight, right? It's almost my birthday."  Oldest girl begs the question.  She's pulling at the days and hoping that once dissected she's most definitely almost ready to flip numbers again.  I smile into gray green gold eyes, "Well almost.  But thankfully not yet."  
Almost is the phrase that laces it's fingers through yours and whispers hope in your ears that, "You're almost through this."  Almost flashlight beams across darkened corridors telling you that these dark days are very much almost gone.  
Almost propels you on to conquer a feat you keep trying but floundering out because you are almost there.
Almost is sometimes that life line your clinging to over the labyrinth.  You've almost let go, but your very much still holding on.  All of you that can is still gripping onto what you most want.

Sometimes almost is the mile marker that cues you in on where you are.  You're almost about to lose this window of time.  All of the minutes are fast merging and about to blur by.  It's almost a time for good byes and new phases.  But not yet.  Almost presses you into the importance of now.

And sometimes almost hangs down your neck like an unwanted pearls of regret.  You almost did something, but didn't.  The chance is over and now you'll never know what would have happened had you lived and loved on the other side of almost.  
Here's the thing about almosts.  They are swallowed up in the all of the time love of God.  They don't ever hinder His ability to come through in not most, but every situation.  There is simply no bag of almosts that is not within his grasp to materialize into the now He most wants for you.  
And maybe now, I'm almost at the point of better holding that truth close. Almost....

"I'm almost eight mama.  It's just twelve weeks away.  Really."  

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Morning

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Morning

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
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Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
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