On Restoration and Surrender

I have no words.

Actually, I have too many words. I could sit here and spill them out, knowing that I committed to writing and posting as a discipline for Lent, but I find that a better thing tonight would be to step into surrender. Unexpected reconciliation of the most brilliant kind wants to wrap my brain up tightly, running around like a child in a candy store, a chicken with its head cut off, and all the other bad cliches. My mind wants to unwrap this surprise gift and spend hours and hours dwelling upon it, picking apart details and possibilities and explanations.

But I want you to have it, Dad. It came from you, anyways. Help me hand it into your keeping so that it may grow instead of stifle in the grasp of my obsessive brain processes. You're the best keeper of precious things anyway; I want you to have this.

And, Dad? One more thing.

Thanks.