Grace, Uncategorized

New Year’s Prayer

Dear Lord,

2015.

I wonder what you’ll have in store for me this year? What journey of faith I will stumble blindly through? The last 2 years have been hard. I admit, I’m stepping into this year a bit fearful. You’ve given me so much, yet the more you give, *gulp*, the more I have to lose. My heart beats harder at the mere thought of possibilities.

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/cae/36781927/files/2015/01/img_0816.jpg

The melancholy side of me feels the subzero temperature on the edges of the house and it matches the edges of my soul.  The blanket pulls up to my chest and I’d like to pull it up over my head and sit in the darkness.  The moon bores a hole straight through the glass window and I realize it’s lit the landscape even before the dawn and I wonder if I’m as transparent as that.

Lord, you know I’m not afraid of a little transparency, but can we discuss ahead of time the parts you want to project before the audience of people?  Can I choose the grit size that you’ll use to polish down the pagan, coarse, stained sides of my badly made choices?  The ones that hold doubt like a liquid IV bag?  The ones where I white knuckle my way through on a solo walk and then wonder why I feel like you and I might not be friends anymore?

/home/wpcom/public_html/wp-content/blogs.dir/cae/36781927/files/2015/01/img_0817.jpg

Lord? Can I start over?

Instead of burying myself in bedding, can I finally, this year, learn to bury deep into your grace?  Can I finally sing songs that sound a little like the praise of angels?  Can I stop the madness of control and instead come quietly, slowly, before your throne and set the remote of my life into your pierced hands?

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice;let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you.  For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover him with favor as with a shield.”  Psalm 5:11,12 ESV.

Lord?  If I am to be transparent, might my transparency be that of rejoicing! Let me remember that you have a purpose for me and the blessings you have given me are there because you sing for joy over me and love me beyond all those night-time stars.  And keep reminding my dementia that the cold is to refresh and revive my slumbering soul and snap me awake to see all the beauty that exists.  Let the words my mouth speaks be a constant merry mizzle of truth.  Truth that your grace is the most fulfilling way to live.

Lord?  That fear mentioned earlier?  I do not take lightly the children, the husband, the friends and family all around as conveniences, but as the gifts given from you to me.  And although I know loss, I also know the truth of eternal life.  Give me the strength to see that the darkness of the tomb is only a quick quiet before the shattering light of wakefulness.  It’s the moment before I’m drawn so close to you that your life-giving breath is all I breathe.

 

In pure quiet,

~kathy

 

 

 

Grace, Parenting

When A Mama Needs Rest In The Rubble

The first sound that registers is his feet softly thumping basement stairs and I roll over and peer search for the time. I quiet smile proudly cause he’s headed for the gym and the guy friends who harass loud but love loyal and the bantering is part of that sound. The porch light slices through the bedroom and the baby’s cough slices through my awakeness when it hits me. I’ve, we’ve, slept all night! Too happy to care that it’s not yet 5, I consider this well rested. Perspective is a funny thing.

All week the baby has battled wheezing coughs, low grade temps, and blowing nose bubbles. Which, in a Mama’s world, means piles and piles of laundry, sandy kitchen floors, and a bathroom, I hope, isn’t growing anything yet.

It’s also been the week of a new roof needed badly, but the pounding rattles the milk bottle chandelier for nine straight hours a day. The five month old goat gets flipped and wedged between two trees no bigger round than a broom handle but seriously injures his back and we’re giving anti-inflammatory injections and rubbing his paralyzed body down with warm water daily and how will I help her heart if he doesn’t make it? The nine year old who pulls on barn clothes every morning and happily traipses out in the cold before breakfast to feed and water and love all over her two goats?

It’s the week a lawsuit lands on the business desk, the internet company raises the bill, and 50 people are coming on a, possibly, rainy, Sunday afternoon for a company picnic, and, yeah, they’ll need to use our 1 bathroom. That one not getting cleaned cause the baby’s still got both arms around my neck sneezing snot across my shoulder.

Ah! That kind of week! That one kind of weary week….

Makes me want to write a new kind of definition for the word ‘endurance’. I wonder how many Mama’s push forward, onward, every day, every moment, even when there’s been little rest for her body, let alone her mind. And I hear her question her self-esteem, her confidence, her ability to make any change in the world when she can’t even get sheets changed on the bed.

IMG_0496.JPG

IMG_0641.JPG

IMG_0494.JPG
But…maybe that is the change. The perspective. The job of supporting her husband through healthier choices and business pitfalls and shaking hands and patting backs of employees and feeling the blessing of their hard work and dedication and support for a business they believe in. And maybe it is about holding the kids close when hearts have to walk through sad good-byes and packages get wrapped to be given away and babies just need a soft hip and a handful of hair and a little soft humming.

Scripture says, “Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised.” Hebrews 10:35-36 (ESV)

Maybe that should be the perspective. God has promised you, dear Mama, a reward. And though the race seems long, sometimes it’s about the leaning forward into this life, the leaning on a God we can trust to change our perspective. And maybe while your sweeping the porch and wiping off the table and chanting out phonograms with your first grader, you’ll remember it’s the trust. The trust that at the end there’s a reward. And with that reward comes REST! Rest, weary Mama. Sweet rest!

Grace, Uncategorized

Hem Clinging

Because sometimes the rain pours down harder than we can see through.  And sometimes the nights are too short and the baby cries long and the discomfort kicks bruises.  But the grace of God sings through the dripping and He’s there.  He’s. Right. There.  And we’re all alright.  No pain stings more than hands pierced hanging from a cross, by choice. So tho the water feels up to your neck and there’s paint smeared on the bathroom wall and dried up egg sitting out from last night and all in these walls feels cramped and dirty, He’s got you.  Hang on friend, cause tomorrow brings options for hammock swinging cause strength comes from clutching the hem of a risen Saviour.

purely clinging

~kathy