I woke up to find
That nothing had been put away last night
The remnants and leftover candy
From the children’s gingerbread house
Leftover fondant and wrappers
Littered the table
Music books with sticky note markings
Piled on the piano
Photocopies for singers
Stacked in a corner
Glasses of water
Strewn across the counter.

I feel no dread or regret
About the cleanup
We sang about
Things once believed
With all of the accessory themes
Cherry trees, roses, lullabies
Their accompanying promises
Of comfort, heaven, and restitution
The part of me that once felt certain
Held all of these ideas
Like a soft and warm blanket
To wrap around the edges of my wounds.
This morning I feel compassion
for the woman
Who believed in that way
Who hoped in that way
I forgive her for the grief
She has caused me.

Today I am expecting
A different kind of believing-hoping
To be born this season.