Ironically, ever since I sent that email to my girlfriends who have also embarked in the 7 experiment, there has been huge relief flooding over me. And, even more ironically, the relief led to an incredibly productive weekend, including a thorough examination of the possessions in our home and a resulting pile of boxes to sell at our church garage sale benefiting an orphanage in Haiti. Before sending that email, I was a mess of guilt for "not doing enough". I was the kind of mess that brings confusion to the beautiful assurance of Matthew 11:28-30: If you are tired from carrying heavy burdens, come to me and I will give you rest. Take the yoke I give you. Put it on your shoulders and learn from me. I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest. This yoke is easy to bear, and this burden is light.
My legalistic, perfectionist self has a hard time letting go of the letter of the law sometimes. The list of shoulds and supposed tos is too tempting; a recipe for success to follow as I meander through life. But I cling to it too closely. With 7, I was expecting myself to tackle the project the way the author of the book did - which was wonderful and impacting for her. But for me in this season? It was draining me of any energy I had to really ponder the spirit of simplifying life in such a way that Jesus can be magnified. As a wonderful friend reminded me, none of it was really ever about 7, but about living together, learning, and loving Jesus more.
That I can do, in this and every season.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
a letter to my 7 sojourners
Girls,
The texts tonight regarding possessions month were the final
straw in my conviction to send this email. We’ve all been quiet these past
weeks and there has been a lot going on. On my end, after a lot of prayer and
thought about this, I think I need to admit that this is just not the season
for me to devote myself to 7. I suppose this email is simply confession time.
God has used these books and conversations with all of you in numerous ways and
I am grateful to have heard His voice and to have been challenged in some good
good good ways. I’m still processing and praying about so much and I’m excited
at how God is moving in my heart. I can tell I will not be the same in my
identity in Christ, how I view the purpose of church, or the purpose of Jesus
followers in the world. As one of you so wisely said, now that these things have
been revealed to me, it would be pure disobedience to NOT act and continue
seeking what follow through looks like. I still have a list of books I want to
read, and I genuinely want to continuing exploring and praying through these
ideas. And yes, praying about my actions and what to DO with all of it. I’m
feeling all out of sorts about where I fit in God’s work right now, especially
given this season of life, but it’s a good thing, and I know He will lead and
provide ways for me to love people and serve Him. I’m committed to keep
blogging and thinking and praying and NOT FORGETTING.
At the same time (warning, this may sound like the whiny
pity-party part), I am 7 weeks away from a gigantic family transition, and
feeling emotionally thin and burdened by an all out messy house, a
not-yet-put-together nursery, tasks we’ve committed to help my mother-in-law with
this summer, pulling together my maternity leave plans while still desperately
praying I will be able to quit, supporting my husband in his roller coaster job
search and also the restructure in his current workplace, remaining connected
with friends, family, neighbors and random acquaintances and responding to
needs that God puts in front of me – which He has, which is awesome!… I’m
already (perhaps selfishly) feeling broken and poured out in these things. All
while trying to remember that God promises provision and really wanting to
trust Him and thank Him for the enormous blessings in my life. I have much to
be abundantly grateful for. But all of this emotional upheaval and the
spiritual rigor of clinging to trust is about as much as I can handle right
now; I just don’t have the bandwidth to add in going to great lengths to clear
out my house or reduce waste in my life. I suppose the media fast will be
forced on me considering a baby will be arriving soon. And maybe the Sabbath
month will work in some capacity, considering I’ll be up in the middle of the
night anyway. J I just don’t have it
in me to make huge accommodations and start (more) big projects.
I will faithfully continue to pray for each of you, and
would love to still hear how God is working through you in this adventure of 7.
And I do want to help with the garage sale (when is it?), and contribute to
other things that may emerge (community garden?). So please keep me posted so I
know how to pray and share your funny stories about finding friend’s wedding
invitations from 10 years ago stacked in boxes in your closets. J
And, as you read this nutty email, if God moves you to call
me out and challenge me to keep going, I promise to be open to listening. The
last thing I want to do is let myself off the hook and make excuses for why I
can’t be some radical girl who gives away 7 items each day for a month. I hate
thinking I am quitting. I invite the accountability if God so moves your heart.
Maybe this is just a surge of hormones these past weeks. I’ll be the first to
admit I’m a little crazy feeling.
Your crazy friend (and thank you if you read all the way to
the end of this),
Sara
Thursday, July 12, 2012
there is a season
I've made a mental note that grand adventures like 7 are probably not ideal ventures to undertake when you are pregnant, praying through future job and childcare arrangements, and also have a little child (or more) running around your home. Not that this has been impossible... just hard to stick to. Or maybe I am just easily distracted.
Clothing month came and went, and while there were days I hated the few shirts I had to select from, this month was really not that different from being pregnant and have a limited wardrobe anyway. In many ways, I entered the month already feeling the convictions of placing too much importance on appearance (not that I don't still struggle with it and bow to the temptation of retail therapy from time to time). At the same time, this season of life for us doesn't lend itself to having a gigantic clothing selection with designer labels. Frankly, I haven't stepped foot in an Ann Taylor or Nordstrom for many many months. I shop at Target a lot, where I can also pick up a new shirt, shampoo, some organizing bins, and dog food without having to make multiple trips (which require the loading and unloading of a toddler from the car each time). We're already in a season of trying to simplify and reduce, for the sake of sanity.
I did read a really interesting article that Jen Hatmaker (author of 7) posted on facebook: The Afterlife of Cheap Clothes. It made me think twice about just what to do. Clearly simply cleaning out my clothes closet of the things I don't really need and dumping the pile at Goodwill is not necessarily the automatic answer. They have an excess already, too. So instead, I've been thinking more specifically about who I can give these items to. For example, I think we're at a place where we can give away all the baby girl clothes our daughter has outgrown. Instead of Goodwill, I think I'll contact the Pregnancy Resource Center and see if they have need, or even ask around amongst my friends to see if they know of anything expecting a baby girl who might want some almost good as new hand me downs.
So that's clothes.
July is possessions, which is one I had eagerly anticipated and still am hopeful for. But, two back to back out of town weekends, plus the holiday, plus, well, life, and my hands and feet are still not yet in step with my heart in this area. My goal had been to go through our house looking for the items that truly are excessive. Games we never play. Extra toiletry bags for travel. Toys we've outgrown and won't need for number 2. Books I'll never really read again. That mango cutter that sure is a neat idea but never seems to work correctly for me (the 1 or 2 times a year I actually buy a mango and remember I have the mango cutter). I also had the idea of gathering the items and selling them in a garage sale, with the intent of donating the profit. That has actually evolved into what will likely be a church-wide garage sale, with the proceeds going to the orphanage in Haiti that I served at along with others from my church in the fall of 2011.
Writing this all down, it sounds just as tiring and uninspired as I currently feel. I suppose some days and weeks are like that, though, and truly, if the things I've been thinking and praying about are a movement of God in my life, I suppose I should expect some discouragement and wind-sucked-from-my-sails feelings. Wherever God is moving, isn't the Enemy taking special note? I've never been one to really go there in my interpretation of events and my feelings, but the more my eyes are opened to the spiritual truths behind every day life, the more I see how the Enemy does not want truth spoken, realized, lived. Guess I need to polish my armor a little bit (Ephesians 6), and pray for endurance.
Wouldn't you know it, this was the reading in Psalms for today's Bible reading:
Psalm 143:7-8
Answer me quickly, O Lord!
My spirit fails!
Hide not your face from me,
lest I be like those who go down to the pit.Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Amen.
Clothing month came and went, and while there were days I hated the few shirts I had to select from, this month was really not that different from being pregnant and have a limited wardrobe anyway. In many ways, I entered the month already feeling the convictions of placing too much importance on appearance (not that I don't still struggle with it and bow to the temptation of retail therapy from time to time). At the same time, this season of life for us doesn't lend itself to having a gigantic clothing selection with designer labels. Frankly, I haven't stepped foot in an Ann Taylor or Nordstrom for many many months. I shop at Target a lot, where I can also pick up a new shirt, shampoo, some organizing bins, and dog food without having to make multiple trips (which require the loading and unloading of a toddler from the car each time). We're already in a season of trying to simplify and reduce, for the sake of sanity.
I did read a really interesting article that Jen Hatmaker (author of 7) posted on facebook: The Afterlife of Cheap Clothes. It made me think twice about just what to do. Clearly simply cleaning out my clothes closet of the things I don't really need and dumping the pile at Goodwill is not necessarily the automatic answer. They have an excess already, too. So instead, I've been thinking more specifically about who I can give these items to. For example, I think we're at a place where we can give away all the baby girl clothes our daughter has outgrown. Instead of Goodwill, I think I'll contact the Pregnancy Resource Center and see if they have need, or even ask around amongst my friends to see if they know of anything expecting a baby girl who might want some almost good as new hand me downs.
So that's clothes.
July is possessions, which is one I had eagerly anticipated and still am hopeful for. But, two back to back out of town weekends, plus the holiday, plus, well, life, and my hands and feet are still not yet in step with my heart in this area. My goal had been to go through our house looking for the items that truly are excessive. Games we never play. Extra toiletry bags for travel. Toys we've outgrown and won't need for number 2. Books I'll never really read again. That mango cutter that sure is a neat idea but never seems to work correctly for me (the 1 or 2 times a year I actually buy a mango and remember I have the mango cutter). I also had the idea of gathering the items and selling them in a garage sale, with the intent of donating the profit. That has actually evolved into what will likely be a church-wide garage sale, with the proceeds going to the orphanage in Haiti that I served at along with others from my church in the fall of 2011.
Writing this all down, it sounds just as tiring and uninspired as I currently feel. I suppose some days and weeks are like that, though, and truly, if the things I've been thinking and praying about are a movement of God in my life, I suppose I should expect some discouragement and wind-sucked-from-my-sails feelings. Wherever God is moving, isn't the Enemy taking special note? I've never been one to really go there in my interpretation of events and my feelings, but the more my eyes are opened to the spiritual truths behind every day life, the more I see how the Enemy does not want truth spoken, realized, lived. Guess I need to polish my armor a little bit (Ephesians 6), and pray for endurance.
Wouldn't you know it, this was the reading in Psalms for today's Bible reading:
Psalm 143:7-8
Answer me quickly, O Lord!
My spirit fails!
Hide not your face from me,
lest I be like those who go down to the pit.Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love,
for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.
Amen.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
being broken and poured out
I have thoughts whirling around my head and I know I need to write them out, but I am not sure where to start.
These past few weeks, I've been feeling heavy and burdened by my own selfishness and inward focus. I keep thinking, how is it that I have been a Christian for 16 years and am only now realizing some things that seem so basic and central to the Christian faith? I feel like a child in my faith, when I've spent years attending church, studying the Bible in both church and academic settings, reading theology and books on Christian living. How is it that I'm only now coming face to face with the concept of living my life in a missional way for Jesus?
I am knee deep in repentance. Forgive me, Jesus. I've missed so many opportunities to love people in Jesus name, to go out into my own neighborhood as a missionary to my community. It's not that I think I've lived in a way that denies my faith, but I've been pursuing growth in Christ while missing the mark.
Acts 11 describes a scene from the early church, where believers in Antioch learned that a devastating famine was coming. The church in Antioch decided they should send whatever help they could to their brothers and sisters.
Do I do this? When I hear of terrible things happening across the globe, across the nation, across my city, my neighborhood, do I drop everything and give of myself, my resources, my time?
Yes and no.
It was just prior to these verses, that we read that it was in Antioch that the Lord's followers were first called Christians. The word Christian means "little Christ". I'd like to know, who coined the term? Was it a follower of Jesus? Someone outside the little church, looking in? Either way, these people were living in such a way that people thought their way of life was worthy of being called "little Christ."
Would my way of life earn the same respect? Would the church throughout America?
We're missing something. I'm missing something.
As if reading Jen Hatmaker's book, 7, didn't mess with me enough, I just finished the prequel, Interrupted. It's all still sinking in. One of the things that has really struck me is her discussion of the Passover as described in the gospels (Luke 22, for example). Hatmaker challenges us to rethink what Jesus meant when he said "Do this, in remembrance of me." Most believers read this scene and incorporate the sacrament of communion into their Christian practices. The bread is Jesus' body, broken for us. The wine is Jesus' blood, poured out for us. Eat the bread, drink the juice, in remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. There is a lot of meaning in this ritual, and God has used this teaching to grow my faith in Him.
Hatmaker suggests there is more to draw from this. That when Jesus said "do this" he wasn't merely talking about eating the bread and drinking the wine, but that he was telling his disciples to go out into the world in such a way as to be broken for others, as Jesus was broken for us. To pour themselves out for people, as Jesus poured himself out for us.
That's a whole different spin on the Passover meal that I have never heard before. But so rich and deep in meaning.
And yet in just a few short weeks, we'll be welcoming our 2nd child into our home, circling back around to the newborn stage once again, when it seems like life has just finally settled into a somewhat predictable routine since before having kids. Really, God? Is this really the time to bring conviction to my heart about the need to be more engaged in my community and service toward my neighbors? Is this really the time when you are challenging me to be broken for others, to pour myself out? I remember all too well the first year with our daughter, the feelings of having nothing left to give at the end of the day (heck, by mid-day I was often drained and exhausted). What does all of this look like for a mom with two children under the age of 3, uncertain of how work situations and childcare will play out in the next few months? I know part of the answer may be that God is calling us moms to be broken and poured out for our children, and yes, I believe there is truth here. But I also don't want to use that as an excuse to avoid lifting my eyes higher to the needs beyond my own family.
I can only wonder that God is preparing my heart. Giving me new eyes to begin to see opportunities. Readying me to be in a place of wanting to say Yes, God when I feel that quickening in my spirit that tells me He is doing something and I better be available for Him to use.
Here's my final thought for now. Several good friends are also walking this journey with me, seeking God with fresh eyes, challenging themselves with considering new ways of Christian living. And yes, still pursuing the crazy fasts (still currently in clothing month, by the way, and disliking my 7 items more and more each day - more thoughts here later). As one lovely friend put it, now that God has shown us these truths, we can't just go back to the old patterns we've been used to. If God is leading me toward something new, I can't just ignore it, that would be direct disobedience. Ouch.
These past few weeks, I've been feeling heavy and burdened by my own selfishness and inward focus. I keep thinking, how is it that I have been a Christian for 16 years and am only now realizing some things that seem so basic and central to the Christian faith? I feel like a child in my faith, when I've spent years attending church, studying the Bible in both church and academic settings, reading theology and books on Christian living. How is it that I'm only now coming face to face with the concept of living my life in a missional way for Jesus?
I am knee deep in repentance. Forgive me, Jesus. I've missed so many opportunities to love people in Jesus name, to go out into my own neighborhood as a missionary to my community. It's not that I think I've lived in a way that denies my faith, but I've been pursuing growth in Christ while missing the mark.
Acts 11 describes a scene from the early church, where believers in Antioch learned that a devastating famine was coming. The church in Antioch decided they should send whatever help they could to their brothers and sisters.
Do I do this? When I hear of terrible things happening across the globe, across the nation, across my city, my neighborhood, do I drop everything and give of myself, my resources, my time?
Yes and no.
It was just prior to these verses, that we read that it was in Antioch that the Lord's followers were first called Christians. The word Christian means "little Christ". I'd like to know, who coined the term? Was it a follower of Jesus? Someone outside the little church, looking in? Either way, these people were living in such a way that people thought their way of life was worthy of being called "little Christ."
Would my way of life earn the same respect? Would the church throughout America?
We're missing something. I'm missing something.
As if reading Jen Hatmaker's book, 7, didn't mess with me enough, I just finished the prequel, Interrupted. It's all still sinking in. One of the things that has really struck me is her discussion of the Passover as described in the gospels (Luke 22, for example). Hatmaker challenges us to rethink what Jesus meant when he said "Do this, in remembrance of me." Most believers read this scene and incorporate the sacrament of communion into their Christian practices. The bread is Jesus' body, broken for us. The wine is Jesus' blood, poured out for us. Eat the bread, drink the juice, in remembrance of Jesus' sacrifice on the cross. There is a lot of meaning in this ritual, and God has used this teaching to grow my faith in Him.
Hatmaker suggests there is more to draw from this. That when Jesus said "do this" he wasn't merely talking about eating the bread and drinking the wine, but that he was telling his disciples to go out into the world in such a way as to be broken for others, as Jesus was broken for us. To pour themselves out for people, as Jesus poured himself out for us.
That's a whole different spin on the Passover meal that I have never heard before. But so rich and deep in meaning.
And yet in just a few short weeks, we'll be welcoming our 2nd child into our home, circling back around to the newborn stage once again, when it seems like life has just finally settled into a somewhat predictable routine since before having kids. Really, God? Is this really the time to bring conviction to my heart about the need to be more engaged in my community and service toward my neighbors? Is this really the time when you are challenging me to be broken for others, to pour myself out? I remember all too well the first year with our daughter, the feelings of having nothing left to give at the end of the day (heck, by mid-day I was often drained and exhausted). What does all of this look like for a mom with two children under the age of 3, uncertain of how work situations and childcare will play out in the next few months? I know part of the answer may be that God is calling us moms to be broken and poured out for our children, and yes, I believe there is truth here. But I also don't want to use that as an excuse to avoid lifting my eyes higher to the needs beyond my own family.
I can only wonder that God is preparing my heart. Giving me new eyes to begin to see opportunities. Readying me to be in a place of wanting to say Yes, God when I feel that quickening in my spirit that tells me He is doing something and I better be available for Him to use.
Here's my final thought for now. Several good friends are also walking this journey with me, seeking God with fresh eyes, challenging themselves with considering new ways of Christian living. And yes, still pursuing the crazy fasts (still currently in clothing month, by the way, and disliking my 7 items more and more each day - more thoughts here later). As one lovely friend put it, now that God has shown us these truths, we can't just go back to the old patterns we've been used to. If God is leading me toward something new, I can't just ignore it, that would be direct disobedience. Ouch.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
loving my neighbor
When we bought our home several years ago, I was immersed in seminary culture, surrounded by people who were pretty much scraping by. Seminary students are not known for living with abundance. I felt guilty at the extravagance of owning our own home, and I prayed that God would give us opportunities to share what He'd given us with others.
In the years since, we've had many gatherings; parties, holiday dinners, barbecues, small group meetings, a high school girls Bible study, play dates, talks with friends over coffee, house guests. We have been able to open our home, and I've loved these moments. Consider my prayers answered.
Except that...we live next door to a widow. Several years ago, a single mom moved in to the house behind us. I am fairly certain the couple across from us are in the military, with the husband frequently deployed. I am positive there are other difficulties represented in other households on our street. But I don't know the names of most of my neighbors. I can probably count the number of significant conversations (i.e. more than a "hi, how are you" at the mailbox) I have had with these people on one hand. My natural tendency is to allow others to approach me, and in the absence of this initiative, I don't usually go out of my way to leap the chasm that busy lives and the fear of intrusion or rejection create.
But let's be honest, the bottom line is that my comfort zone is so very very small.
This all hit home this past month after I met a family at our neighborhood park. After learning they have a young toddler and newborn twins (Lord, have mercy), I found myself offering to bring them a meal. Complete strangers! The words were out of my mouth before I could think, and then it was too late. This was new territory. Scary territory, I'm openly ashamed to admit.
I agonized over it. I knew without a doubt I had to follow through. So about a week later I got up enough nerve (and let's face it, the Spirit was working on me), and sent a text. A few texts back and forth working around scheduling, and plans were still in process. And then one morning at the library, I look up and see the dad standing unavoidably across from me in the children's section. What the heck! It sealed the deal, and we set up a date. Papa Murphy's pizza, bagged salad, and store bought cookies delivered to this family for a hassle free dinner during a chaotic and exhausting season of life. (I did debate a home cooked meal, which is obviously superior to even Trader Joe's cookies, but as I told the couple when I delivered the meal, "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with some strange woman forcing weird food on you." I'm so neurotic).
Yay, me. Yet I felt strangely unsettled about what had been a delightful encounter. As I prayed, it hit me, these people are not really the "least of these" that Jesus commands me to care for. Honestly, they are just like me. I know it blessed them. I know it was generous and kind and good, and I believe it was a God-thing. And I believe it pleased God that I was responsive to the prompting He'd given me to reach out. But that fact that this had scared me, felt uncomfortable? Jesus has so far to go in convicting me of the need to love my neighbors, to love the least of these. If this was awkward, no wonder I struggle so much to interact with those who truly are "different" from me - the homeless, the teen moms, the poor. In graduate school I wrote some pretty nice papers about every person being made in God's image and the necessity of seeing the humanity and beauty in each living soul, regardless of economic status, age, ethnicity, etc. I talk about wanting to love people in radical ways, but I don't think I have much of a concept as to what that means. I barely even know my widowed neighbor, let alone the homeless population in our city. It's painful to see the hypocrisy in myself and to recognize the snobbery I've unknowingly harbored.
It's also freeing.
Jesus, give me eyes to see the real needs of people and make it clear where I can be a blessing. Tear down barriers that separate me from truly loving those who live such different lives than I do. Make it obvious, Jesus, because I am learning that I can be pretty blind.
In the years since, we've had many gatherings; parties, holiday dinners, barbecues, small group meetings, a high school girls Bible study, play dates, talks with friends over coffee, house guests. We have been able to open our home, and I've loved these moments. Consider my prayers answered.
Except that...we live next door to a widow. Several years ago, a single mom moved in to the house behind us. I am fairly certain the couple across from us are in the military, with the husband frequently deployed. I am positive there are other difficulties represented in other households on our street. But I don't know the names of most of my neighbors. I can probably count the number of significant conversations (i.e. more than a "hi, how are you" at the mailbox) I have had with these people on one hand. My natural tendency is to allow others to approach me, and in the absence of this initiative, I don't usually go out of my way to leap the chasm that busy lives and the fear of intrusion or rejection create.
But let's be honest, the bottom line is that my comfort zone is so very very small.
This all hit home this past month after I met a family at our neighborhood park. After learning they have a young toddler and newborn twins (Lord, have mercy), I found myself offering to bring them a meal. Complete strangers! The words were out of my mouth before I could think, and then it was too late. This was new territory. Scary territory, I'm openly ashamed to admit.
I agonized over it. I knew without a doubt I had to follow through. So about a week later I got up enough nerve (and let's face it, the Spirit was working on me), and sent a text. A few texts back and forth working around scheduling, and plans were still in process. And then one morning at the library, I look up and see the dad standing unavoidably across from me in the children's section. What the heck! It sealed the deal, and we set up a date. Papa Murphy's pizza, bagged salad, and store bought cookies delivered to this family for a hassle free dinner during a chaotic and exhausting season of life. (I did debate a home cooked meal, which is obviously superior to even Trader Joe's cookies, but as I told the couple when I delivered the meal, "I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable with some strange woman forcing weird food on you." I'm so neurotic).
Yay, me. Yet I felt strangely unsettled about what had been a delightful encounter. As I prayed, it hit me, these people are not really the "least of these" that Jesus commands me to care for. Honestly, they are just like me. I know it blessed them. I know it was generous and kind and good, and I believe it was a God-thing. And I believe it pleased God that I was responsive to the prompting He'd given me to reach out. But that fact that this had scared me, felt uncomfortable? Jesus has so far to go in convicting me of the need to love my neighbors, to love the least of these. If this was awkward, no wonder I struggle so much to interact with those who truly are "different" from me - the homeless, the teen moms, the poor. In graduate school I wrote some pretty nice papers about every person being made in God's image and the necessity of seeing the humanity and beauty in each living soul, regardless of economic status, age, ethnicity, etc. I talk about wanting to love people in radical ways, but I don't think I have much of a concept as to what that means. I barely even know my widowed neighbor, let alone the homeless population in our city. It's painful to see the hypocrisy in myself and to recognize the snobbery I've unknowingly harbored.
It's also freeing.
Jesus, give me eyes to see the real needs of people and make it clear where I can be a blessing. Tear down barriers that separate me from truly loving those who live such different lives than I do. Make it obvious, Jesus, because I am learning that I can be pretty blind.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
today i am pondering...
We make our own decisions, but the Lord alone determines what happens (Proverbs 16:33, CEV).
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
all is well, child
Every night before I go to bed, I check on my daughter. With the door slightly ajar, light pouring in from the hallway, I look at her lovely 2 year old form, sprawled across her big girl bed, arms often folded on either side of her head, bent out at angles. Her face is so peaceful and perfect. I know I'm the mom, but really? You never saw a more precious thing. I straighten her covers, make sure she's not too hot or cold, kiss her forehead gently. I whisper "I love you, sweetheart," smooth her hair back from her face. "All is well, my little girl."
That last part made it into my routine more recently. We're dealing with more whining and crying these days; I never knew a little one could be so persistent in her requests - well, demands. We still feel like brand new parents, dealing with each new challenge as the wave of her development crests and crashes into us. My patience is being tested. How many times can the word no be uttered!? More often than I'd like to admit, my patience is pushed beyond its limits, and I respond with a word spoken just a bit too harshly. A sharp tone that she's never had much cause to hear before. And even though I catch myself and go to her and say I'm sorry for getting frustrated, it leaves me feeling guilty.
My point is, we've reached a stage where Bumble Bee's world does not always go as she wants. Disappointment, confusion and frustration have entered her days. Sometimes, even hurt. Yes, we believe we're making the best choices for her. But from her little two year old vantage point, she's discovering a semblance of injustice, hardship. And so I lean over her little self, whisper loving words that despite the events of the day which may have been challenging, all is well. She is loved. We care for her. We are looking out for her.
And it hit me, does God lean over my bedside at night and whisper the same words?
I face challenges, discomfort, uncertainty, difficulty. I feel pain, sometimes for very good reasons. I see injustice, I hurt for myself and others. And too often, I whine and fight and cry that things aren't fair, things aren't going the way I want. Maybe sometimes God is grieving with me. Perhaps there are times when I am close to the heart of God and I hurt for the very things that He hurts for. Other times, I am certain He is laughing at my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let go of my insistent petitions and relax into His good plans.
God in His goodness is sovereign and His purposes will prevail. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is powerful, more powerful than the broken forces at work on the earth. He is merciful and just. And so despite the events of my day, the things I see and experience which cause me strife, all is well. Does He stroke my hair at night and assure me of this beautiful truth?
All is well, child.
That last part made it into my routine more recently. We're dealing with more whining and crying these days; I never knew a little one could be so persistent in her requests - well, demands. We still feel like brand new parents, dealing with each new challenge as the wave of her development crests and crashes into us. My patience is being tested. How many times can the word no be uttered!? More often than I'd like to admit, my patience is pushed beyond its limits, and I respond with a word spoken just a bit too harshly. A sharp tone that she's never had much cause to hear before. And even though I catch myself and go to her and say I'm sorry for getting frustrated, it leaves me feeling guilty.
My point is, we've reached a stage where Bumble Bee's world does not always go as she wants. Disappointment, confusion and frustration have entered her days. Sometimes, even hurt. Yes, we believe we're making the best choices for her. But from her little two year old vantage point, she's discovering a semblance of injustice, hardship. And so I lean over her little self, whisper loving words that despite the events of the day which may have been challenging, all is well. She is loved. We care for her. We are looking out for her.
And it hit me, does God lean over my bedside at night and whisper the same words?
I face challenges, discomfort, uncertainty, difficulty. I feel pain, sometimes for very good reasons. I see injustice, I hurt for myself and others. And too often, I whine and fight and cry that things aren't fair, things aren't going the way I want. Maybe sometimes God is grieving with me. Perhaps there are times when I am close to the heart of God and I hurt for the very things that He hurts for. Other times, I am certain He is laughing at my stubbornness, my unwillingness to let go of my insistent petitions and relax into His good plans.
God in His goodness is sovereign and His purposes will prevail. He is trustworthy. He is faithful. He is powerful, more powerful than the broken forces at work on the earth. He is merciful and just. And so despite the events of my day, the things I see and experience which cause me strife, all is well. Does He stroke my hair at night and assure me of this beautiful truth?
All is well, child.
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