Morning Scramble




Eggs are beaten;

shells are tossed.

It’s breakfast with

toast and jam.

(Forgot this week

to pick up ham.)

Fire in family room

roars and pops.

Just how I like it

and not too hot.

Another log?

Please don’t bother.

I’ll have to move

somewhere farther.

All at once,

a face is fallen.

The good deed

lies rejected,


A door closes.

A stomach turns.

Tears squeeze.

Explaining burns.

But longing tethers;

deep calls to deep.

In the roar of waterfalls,

God’s not asleep.

Enemy may steal

our breakfast peace—

scramble heads,

like eggs,


But Spirit

intrudes and woos

and breathes,

“All my fountains

are in You.”

Sweet reminder.

Real relief.


Inspiration from

“All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you,” Psalm 38:9.

“Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me,” Psalm 42:7.

“As they make music they will sing, ‘All my fountains are in you,’” Psalm 87:7.

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