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And God Watered my Cucumbers

And God Watered my Cucumbers

Three days equaled two hours of sleep.
It’s the place where brain fog and emotions are high.
I’ve been staring out the window,
I need to water the cucumbers.

I sit in the chaise lounge,
Nursing through blood, sweat, and tears.
Latching sometimes takes hours,
So I can’t water the cucumbers.

My husband holds the baby,
My firstborn looks at me and,
I see the struggle with the change in the tears that roll down his cheeks.
I hold him as we cry together in the kitchen.
There are more important things than watering the cucumbers.

Holding onto the wall I walk down the hallway,
Pain lighting up my back, hip, and leg.
I fall to the ground and it’s there I sit a while.
I can barely walk.
I can’t water the cucumbers.

There they sit,
Leaves wilted and browning.
Their importance to me is bizarre.
I glance out the window and my eyes meet rain,
God watered my cucumbers.

And isn’t that just like my Father?
Simple things to remind me he sees.
Through cucumbers and rain I’m encouraged that he provides.
Thank you, God, for watering my cucumbers.

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