Josh

The blinds slap at the window sill, the coolness rushing in on a breezy day.  And it hits me, how can everything just seem so normal?  How can I talk with him casually as though there's nothing wrong?  That his grown man decisions are so wrong, but i'm not allowed to warn him?  In respecting his autonomy and adulthood, I let him careen over a cliff in the distance, even if it's at 30 miles an hour.  Eventually, he will sail over the edge, too late.

I've pretty much made peace with all that, I just keep praying.  But every so often, like today, when that breeze tapped me on the shoulder, I want to run to him, to plead with him, to let him know the building he's living in is on fire.  But I know he doesn't wanna hear that from me, so the attempts have ceased. 

But here's the thing, once you're a mom, you held him, loved him, suffered with him, celebrated with him, you just can't sever the tie lickity-split.  "I asked the LORD to give me this boy, and he has granted my request." I Samuel 1:27.  I have loved him more than I thought possible.  And he loved me back.  Now his love is distant, I believe it's there, he says so, but hard to tell.  And when my mind runs to past viewing of little boy days, the tears just naturally come.

I don't believe I know anyone with as much God-given talent or potential.  Handsome and funny, full of style and personality, but I cannot support his lifestyle.  It is heart-breaking.  People, girls especially, left in his wake, hurting.

The thing is, this heart that is aging and preparing to go home, longs for a few sweet moments with the boy, the man.  And they will not be forthcoming.  And this heart, more than anything, wants to know that he walks with Jesus as he once did.  I probably will not live to know.  I could not have lived through the events of the last few years without my love, my David.  Though we all have made mistakes, his unwavering support and love, holding me when I am distraught, etc., helps me stay sane in it all. 

And Jesus, always Jesus.  The wakings in the night, the fear that can grip my heart when there's a phone call later than usual, the wondering, the grieving, He holds me through it all and sustains me.

So on this blustery day in April, about a week after he turned 36, I once allow myself to feel the grief, the missing and I pray, and I weep. 

Priorites

It is 9:39, Tuesday morning.  I have had breakfast, played with the dogs and meted out daily medicines into their little Monday, Tuesday, etc. boxes.  I am finding at 63 I am wont to stay in bed a little longer in the morning.  Only problem with that is, there's less morning to get things done, which is my best work time.

I'm also finding at 63, I really don't care for housework anymore.  This surprises me, because a short 3-1/2 years ago, I was so thrilled to have this rental house (and I still am!), it was a joy to clean.  So it is not a waning interest in what God so graciously gave us, I just don't wanna clean. 

My favorite thing to do is stay in the Monastery, which is one of the bedrooms with computer and books, where I have devotions almost every day and talk to the Lord.  I can look out the window beside me into the back yard and see the trees we planted and the critters I feed peanuts to every morning.  To have solitude is a precious gift.  Time to think, to pray, to read, research, to play. 

Problem is my mind can't rest unless the house is fairly clean and picked up.  So I struggle with the balance.  I mean on the one hand, to ponder, to think and to worship are the best things, but on the other, I also want to make a good home for my husband.  I want him to want to come home, have it be a haven from the world and that includes being clean and uncluttered.

For today I have the blessings of dogs playing, candle lit, hot coffee and me at my computer.  But at the bottom of the coffee cup, there are floors to clean, furniture to dust, etc.  And in it all, to seek the heart of God and learn more of Him.

Sick Days

When I am not feeling well, and i'm talking about the Mommy Standard not feeling well, I like to pamper myself for the day.  Thankfully, I rarely feel that bad for longer than that.  But my day includes guilt-free time on the computer, multiple cups of coffee with whatever my flavor of the day is, Renaissance Man grabbing dinner on the way home, and just general loafing about.

I read a post this morning and the writer was talking about what her 3 favorite things to do are.  Like her, i'd never thought of it really, but one of mine is being alone with the Lord.  Of course the thoughts that immediately rushed in were how I become distracted, but also, when I don't, sometimes I just feel too dense to grasp anything He might be saying to me.  So my prayer is that, even if i'm like a dumb animal, I want His Holy Spirit to saturate me, let me just soak in Him for a while, curl up at His feet and just be with Him.  Because I do know this for certain, His presence is better than any other experience.  To just be still and absorb the love is the best thing this side of Heaven. 

I hope to grow and learn and mature in the Lord.  But on these days of not feeling well, or just not being able to grasp what He might be saying to me, I will just enjoy Him being here.  What sweet assurance of what is to come. 

There are people I love that will only change if they allow the Lord to change them (like all of us) and follow Him passionately.  This can make me weary and sorrowful, there are too many bills, the car needs work, I miss my friends and family, the list could go on and on, for all of us.  At this age, knowing that Heaven is the destination is incredibly comforting, and His presence with me now, a sweet foretaste.

Advent 2016

In celebrating Advent and reflecting on all that Christmas means, I was struck this morning with what was a new thought for me.  I have heard all my life that Christ would've died and rose again even if I was the only person alive.  But this morning it came to me, He would also have been born had I been the only other one.  He was born for me, as He died for me.

Ever amazed at thinking about how almighty God was crammed into a tiny baby and ultimately a grown man, knowing He would do all that for me is as staggering as the cross.  In Hebrews 4:15, it tells us He was tempted as we are.  Isaiah 53:3, that He was familiar with pain and grief.  He was born for it...for me, for every one of us.  For leaders in the world, for Olympic champions, for addicts who can't get a handle on their addiction, for the down and out, for the wealthy, for the good, for the bad...for all of us.  He is familiar with the pains that can fill our hearts.

But He doesn't leave us there hurting, He holds a hand out to us, offering hope, forgiveness, redemption.  And the very things that can put us under, become springboards for miracles.  Miracles begin in the heart.  To dare to hope, and then watch to see what He does, often times, quietly, seemingly in such a natural way, when in reality, it could only happen super-naturally.

The unfathomable love of God for us!  He won't allow short-cuts, only when we realize our utter hopelessness in our own strength, and how painfully guilty we are of putting Him up there on that cross, we are faced with the baby in the manger.  We are the reason He came.  The more I meditate on it, the more I realize Isaiah 64:6, "All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away."  But God.  But the baby we celebrate.

Once again, it's Christmas.  Time to realize all He is and worship.

Seasons

I look out my window and my soul feasts on the color of changing leaves, vibrant in their new Fall brilliance, the apples that litter the circumference of our apple tree, little balls of nutrients for the squirrels and birds that frequent our back yard.  This is my favorite time of year, and this particular year is interesting to me.  At 62, I didn't think much would be changing in my world, yet I did enjoy Summer and that is a revelation, a paradigm shift.  I was told that the past Summers here were unusually hot, and this past Summer was the norm.  It has been alluring in its beauty, drawing me outside every morning for devotions midst the starting of the day, not yet too warm, gentle breezes blowing, birds greeting the day in song.  Sitting outside with my love, conversations held watching the world go by on our little neighborhood street as he tends the grill, which gets a workout every Summer.  All in all, I am a convert and have to say that some sadness rose up in me for its passing. 

But then that little something in the coolness of the breeze, that hint of the coming of Winter....but not quite yet, grabbed my heart and I remembered that Fall feels most familiar.  Favorite colors, favorite soups, favorite clothes, how good it feels to come in out of the cold, yes, Fall is my favorite.  Ask me in Winter, and I might say Winter is my favorite...or Spring...and now, perhaps Summer.  But I do believe in my heart of hearts, that Fall will always be that time when my soul feels most fed, most at peace.

I hopefully have many years left, but I do feel the need to appreciate each season, because how many are left I don't know.  So as the candle holder sparkles its design on the wall through an Autumn sun, I appreciate each nuance.  Each day with Renaissance Man, cherished, thankful to a God who so lovingly granted 18 years' worth of prayers.  Time moves on, through the seasons, and I move with them, both of us silently.  I worry that I haven't done enough, and I haven't, either through inability because of finances or fear, but I am confident that when I get "Home," none of that will matter.

Right now, it is enough to have this unique, amazing man, my husband (how I love that word, "husband"), our sweet kids and our family and friends, our sweet, sweet little pup and see what each day brings.  The thing is not to miss the moments.  Be present as they say, and I am, and through un-telling eyes, I marvel at the gifts He gives with every sunrise.♥