God Bless Our Home

It’s dark when I stand in the kitchen
wait for coffee to pour from the Keurig
and stretch.

My eyes wander
and light on a little plaque above the window.
God bless our home, it says.

God bless our home
where we are sequestered
safe, so they tell us,
from a virus named COVID.

God bless our home
where two people live
with two Yorkshire terriers.
The smallest and youngest
at three feisty pounds
alters the cadence of our days.

God bless our home
where we do jigsaw puzzles
and read books
and surf Netflix, mostly in vain.

Where we eat fresh still-warm bread
and wear pajamas
and lose track of the days.

Where we Zoom into community
and look at the faces of people in living rooms and home offices
and do our best to connect.
Thankful for the technology
but hungry for more.

God bless our home
where our grandchildren haven’t been for months.
Where we peer at pictures on screens
seeing both change and growth
and grow melancholy at the thought of what we’re missing.

Where we remain thankful for technology
that allows us to connect
but hungry for hugs.

God bless our home
where we pray
and lament.

Where we’re thankful
but mourning.

Where our faith
ebbs and flows.

God bless our home.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. I’m nodding my head in agreement. Re: Netflix, I agree! I’m almost ready to give up on it.

  2. I’m adding my amen to this!

  3. Many homes when I grew up had this motto on their walls, sometimes painted on glass on framed in wood or metal.

    We found two movies on Netflix we’ve liked lately: The Dig (British archeology) and Penguin Bloom, family drama set in Australia

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