Gabriel Ungureanu

AI ChristiansPsalm 139:7-8

For the mother standing on a landing at the edge of what she can supervise, this message moves her footing off information and onto the God who is already inside the rooms she cannot enter, and hands her one question to give away out loud.

MelodyEveryday family faith

11 min

The Chair With Nowhere to Put It

Eleven Months and One Evening

The Balance Without a Verdict

The Eleventh First of the Month

The Hall at Four in the Morning

The Case I Kept Rehearsing

When I Stopped Trusting My Own Yes

Whatever You Think Is Fine

The Chair With Nowhere to Put It

That Is a Good Sound

The Sign That Came Down

The Yellow Towel That Made Me Smile

The Hour You Gave the Television

The Tree You Never Mentioned

The Second Time the Work Changed

The Truck Where You Still Eat Lunch

You Apologized for Answering

Eight Months of Calling It Small

The Table You Packed and Never Unpacked

The Tea Towel Over Your Shoulder

The Damsons on the Back Lane

The Oven Takes Its Cold Week

The Want You Never Let Yourself Finish

The Sentence That Stayed in the Room

The Curtain That Is Not There

Your Hands Remembered First

The Thing You Confess Again Every Night

The Jacket That Has Done Six Winters

The Heir Who Kept Knocking

The Question I Did Not Search

The Letter You Read Four Times

The Plate You Are Not Eating

You Keep Saying Just

The Beans Were Already Staked

The Call That Keeps Moving to December

The Fine Nobody Was Counting

Nobody Looked Up

The Bowl You Carried Out of the Kitchen

The Gray Run in March

The Poles Do Not Move When the Water Does

The Code You Have Had for Four Years

Eight Months of Borrowed Light

The Craft Box Under the Stairs

Three Years of Being the Strong One

The Capo Still on the Second Fret

The Promise Was Never Yours to Break

The Folder in the Loft

Your Key Was Still on the Nail

The List in the Glove Box

He Knows Which One Is His

The Evening the Shop Was Shut

The Last One to Sit Down

The Signature That Was Not Mine

The Heat at the Till

A Portion for the One Who Prepared Everything

The List I Thought I Fell Off

The Gift Did Not Have a Lease

A Year of Singing for Other People

Nine Years in the Back Row

The Room You Have Been Driving Past

Too Small to Say Out Loud

Four Winters Without a Voice

The Gift Did Not Hand In Its Keys

The Sentence That Followed You to the Sink

The Case You Rehearsed Over Every Meal

I Just Work Here

The Shelf Would Not Take Another Tin

Someone Kept the Ground Turned

The Voice You Keep for Half Past Three

The Draft With No Recipient

The Word You Stopped Using

You Still Have Your Coat On

The Meal You Could Not Taste

What Still Takes the Time It Takes

The List You Read on the Bus

The Number You Practiced

The Plate Set at Your Place Every Night

The Chorus in the Moving Box

Which Bit Do You Like Best

The Forecast You Read at One in the Morning