growth

This past weekend I was at a hockey game, on a mission to find the lone water fountain in a arena that seats tens of thousands to quench my non-pop drinking son's thirst (caused by fist-fulls of salty, scratchy popcorn shovelled into his mouth). A familiar face caught my gaze and I paused, searching my memory for his name. He said hi, and his girlfriend popped into my mind's focus. I knew them from my college basketball years. How long has it been? My mind was reeling through years of memories until it settled on 17. Seventeen years?!? We chatted briefly, as long ago friends do, talking about the hockey game, and catching the 30 second update on each others' lives. And then we waved goodbye and continued along our chosen paths.

As I filled up the water bottle, I was transported back to the girl I used to be. Layers of lessons and experience were peeled back to reveal a girl who longed for a place to belong. A big smile on the outside was all I could do to convince others that I was content - but it didn't work. My walk was set to shoulders curved inward, my shyness directed my eyes downwards, my clothes hung loosely on my awkward frame and my words were mumbled so as not to stand out. I had just started dating the only boy who had ever called me his. My days were spent attending classes that I had no idea where they led (I hadn't figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up), and my evenings were filled with basketball drills, running shoes and blue and white coloured jerseys and following other's directions. I was unknown - especially to myself.

When I came back to my seat, I told my husband (the boy who loved that girl all those years ago) that I ran into our old friends. He said he saw them too. Later that night I asked my husband if he thought I was different from those first years of college. He leaned over and told me that I have changed.

He said I have grown into myself. 

I pulled out an old picture of me. 

And I see it. I have changed. I no longer search for my place, or wonder about my worth. The experience of the past seventeen years has evolved that awkward eighteen-year-old girl into the God-loving woman I am today. I now know that I serve a purpose and that I am part of a greater plan that I have a role in. No imitations or impersonations - God loves me  - despite my faults, weaknesses and mistakes. I've grown to love me too.

This post was inspired by Emily.

hunger

"Give us this day our daily bread... " I must have muttered this line from the Lord's Prayer hundreds of thousands of times over my lifetime.

Most times, I'm ashamed to admit, the words fell off my tongue; tasteless and one-dimensional with barely a digestible thought.

But I haven't been speaking the words, I have only been reciting them. I haven't tasted the words, I've only seen them. I hadn't thought about the words, I simply said them.

These simple words "give us this day our daily bread" mean more than simply surviving. Where I have only understood the bread to mean literal food and sustenance that God will provide, I am finally beginning to understand the breadth of this statement, and the words Jesus spoke later: "Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God."

What I have discovered is this - my soul has been starving. I have not been feeding my soul its daily bread. God has been presenting me this soul-saving bread every day, wrapped in a moment created just for my soul to feast on, but I have been too bloated with distractions to notice.

But God is patient. His mouth breathes life into my soul, resuscitating it from the paralysis of indifference. The aroma of God's bread is powerful, sweet and nurturing.  God's homemade soul food comes ready to eat and without the need for preservatives. I don't have to store it away for later, as this is the only food that never runs out. 

Lately God has been super-sizing my portions, like my mom used to do when I was going through my growth spurts. I am ready for seconds and thirds and somedays, fourths. I can feel God smiling on me, pouring His spirit into my emptiness. 

This past week has been weary, but like chicken soup, God has been serving remedies to strengthen me, from the inside out. The menu has included: 

...my daughter reading her favourite book to me while I was getting ready for work. I greedily ate up every word that her perfect little voice formed, right down to the soft "l" lisps that passed through her lips. 

...my husband speaking my love language to me. His actions fill me with grace.

...my son asking me to rub his back so he can fall asleep. The reminder that I am needed has such a restorative power.

...quiet, candlelit moments. Even if it means sending the kids upstairs to watch tv so my husband and I can dine on take-out Chinese food.

Thank you for this daily bread.