Gluten: The Invisible Enemy

My girl's had a rough few weeks and we couldn't pinpoint the issue. UNTIL...
We figured out that Mike's hair gel had wheat starch in it and my deodorant had wheat in it too...Sheesh. Anyhow this is my poem-vent.

Foodprints

Fear. Invisible enemies seem to invade our once sanctuary now danger home.
Where. Invisible. Invisible particles impossible to clean...lurking unknown.

Attack. These attack with hives, red, raised, bumpy, screaming from her skin.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Scratch.

Stress. Coming in waves until all that is left is angst. Protecting her from the invisible.
How to protect from this alien, invisible enemy of food prints.

Gloves. Cream. Medicine. Tears. Blood. My Hands cracking from paranoid washing...washing thrice just in case. In case enemy foodprints hide under already washed fingernails. Washing through the day. Days feeling washed bare.
Barren pain.

Her hands scarred by sleepy scratching. Scratching through dreams. Dreams scratched and sheets dotted with scratch-blood.

Bleeding. Bloody. Flashbacks to new baby blood rushing from IV onto hospital gowns. Mother pain...daughter scars. It was nothing yet everything. She's fine. She's fine but there's blood. Blood on my heart. Helplessness abounds.

Remembering. A heart re-remembers prayers of new mother pain and hope for hers to not be in vain. Still pray-praying that prayer. Not for naught. Let it be eternally fruitful.

Advent of red. How red. I wish-wonder did Mary dream of red blood and wounded son. Did she gaze into her son's baby eyes and see the cross. I gaze at my daughter's hands and try to see. To see beyond the skin to the new life ahead without pain. Remembering. Re-remembering the love pains of my Lord. Treasuring these things because they are gift. Gift of pain.

This cross. Heavy yet not. Heavy but only because of a small soul trying to carry it alone. Here Lord. Here. Please help me remember the light and easy way.

Trust. Trusting that this cross leads us through a mini-calvary and then home to you.