EPISODE 9: SARAH'S KITCHEN TABLE
309 Words
Tuesday, 9:00 PM.
Sarah’s Kitchen.
The house was finally quiet. Lily was asleep.
Sarah sat at the table. Cold coffee. Bills scattered.
Her phone buzzed. Ana.
"Hey. How’s Lily?"
Sarah typed with shaking hands:
"She said it again. ‘God sees me.’ Before bed."
Three dots.
Then: "Can I come over? I’m 5 minutes away."
10 minutes later, Ana was sitting across from her.
No Bible. No notes. Just two cups of tea.
"I’m failing her,"
Sarah whispered.
"The IEP meetings. The meltdowns. The stares at church today after group. I’m failing."
Ana didn’t answer right away.
"Do you remember what you said in the basement?"
Ana asked.
"You said ‘I’m tired of pretending I have it together.’"
Sarah nodded. Crying now.
"I lied,"
she said.
"I yelled at Lily today. Target. People were staring. So I yelled. Then I cried in the car for an hour."
Ana reached across. Held her hand.
"Sarah. God isn’t asking you to be a perfect mom. He’s asking you to be a present one."
Sarah laughed. Wet. Broken.
"I thought He was disappointed."
"He’s not,"
Ana said.
"Matthew 11:28. ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ That’s you. That’s me. That’s Lily."
Sarah looked at the cold coffee.
"What do I do tomorrow?"
"You wake up,"
Ana said.
"You feed Lily. You survive the day. And next Tuesday, you come back. And we sit again."
Sarah wiped her face.
"Thank you for coming."
Ana stood up.
"That’s the point of the group, Sarah. No one does this alone."
At the door, Ana paused.
"Lily spoke 3 words today. Do you know how many kids in this town got seen today? One."
She smiled.
"That’s enough."
Outside, Cedar Falls was dark.
Inside, one kitchen table.
Two women.
One truth: You are seen.
- Writer
