Broken . . . and Glowing? (freewrite)

A while back, I had bought the kids some of those neon "glow sticks" at the dollar store. They were excited to get them out of the package, but my daughter took one look at hers and tossed it on the floor in disgust. "Mommy, mine doesn't work," she said, "It doesn't glow at all.'

"Sure it does," I assured her, and proceeded to take the tube and bend it back and forth along the length of it to break the glass to release/commingle the chemicals.

"Stop, Mommy!" she exclaimed as she heard the snapping and cracking noises from the glass shattering inside, "you're BREAKING IT!"

I explained to her that the only way to get it to glow is to "break it" on the inside.

Before long, all 3 of them were dancing around waving the brightly colored "wands" in the air, making various shapes and designs.

I couldn't help but think that sometimes I, like my duaghter, shudder when the things around me "shatter."

"Stop it, Lord," I protest, "You're breaking me!"

Who knows, maybe I'm a little like those goofy little plastic toys -- the only way God could get me to "glow" was to "break me on the inside" a little.

The Storm's Increased (sonnet)

I saw a lighthouse drawing me to shore,
A beacon of hope lit my shadowed path.
Distraught, I prayed in anguish to the Lord,
"Please let this storm I'm fighting be the last."
The thunder raged about me 'round the clock,
The waves came up and over on the deck.
I felt my ship pulled near the jagged rocks,
Yet still I clung to hope and craned my neck --
Yearning for a glimpse of the distant shore,
Longing to be rescued from all the pain,
Buffeted by gales I couldn't ignore,
Drowning in bucketfulls of pouring rain.
Just when I thought I'd find a resting place,
The storm's increased and trashed my flimsy faith.

Unworthy (sonnet)

I know I don't deserve for You to hear
My prayers, oh Lord, or give a second thought
To my complaining words or raining tears.
Some may say I'm beautiful, but I'm not.
My past is ugly as the sin I've borne,
It comforts not that You are forgiving.
I try to let it go, but still I mourn
For those that died and those that are living.
Is there an end to this eternal ache?
A mother's heart can only take so much
Before it crumbles and begins to break
From all the worrying and stress and such.
Unworthy though I am, I come to You.
Please give me strength so I can make it through.