love came down

We all huddled together, holding black and white song sheets while little fingers curled around tiny jingle bells. The door bell is rung and we all scream out "the best way to spread Christmas Cheer is to sing loud for all to hear". Over the Santa hats we see the door open with eyes wide while our mouths open loud. 

We sing of Santa coming to town, reindeer, jingling bells and a silent night. Little ones dance on the front door step while adults wipe tears. 

My heart overflows with emotion. Feelings of gratitude, love, concern, hope -  all spilling over into a single word: grace. God's grace envelops us all, trickling into the tiniest corners of dark walls and radiating its light inward: nourishing our tender and tired souls.

For a moment, love is simple and pure. 

There are no agendas, no judgements - only presence.

Dogs bark next door as we finish our carols. The door remains open as we line up to place each other's hearts together in a tight embrace. Tonight love's language whispers quiet and calm. Hands hold and arms envelope. Love manifests.

We are here. 

We are together. 

God is with us. Emmanuel.

servant

This weekend my daughter let me do her hair.

Unlike countless other times, on this day there were no tears, no bargains made - she sat on the couch eating her goldfish crackers as I clumsily twisted strands of her hair into tiny elastics on top of her six-year old head. Hairspray and gel helped sleek the hair where my ability could not, and after what seemed like too long - she was ready to go to her dance competition where she smiled and chassed her way further into my heart.

Today I watched her offer her praises to God as she sang through her newly nestled big-girl front teeth, while swinging her hands up and down to the music. She sneaks moments between songs in her routine to put her two hands just under her chin and motions to me like a kitten playing with yarn. Meow Meow she mouths, and I motion the same back to her. Together we are lost in a moment with our Maker who delights in play.

One of my love languages is acts of service, and I get to serve two children. They challenge me, oh do they challenge me, but how can I expect to grow - and help them grow - if we don't trudge through adversity before making it to the other side? My service is rarely pretty and most times it is choked with tears and laced with frustration, but somehow grace pulls our little family through the veil of uncertainty and we arrive on the side of understanding.

This Mother's Day, I wanted to recognize my mama and my grandma by hosting a brunch at my place. Through my love language, I wanted to show them how much they mean to me. A menu filled with cooked ham, baked cheesy potato casserole, heaping fruit salad, and lemon glazed sticky buns all served on my best china greeted them as we sat down for nourishment. We were served by others and three generations of mamas sat at one table to celebrate our shared calling of motherhood.

Around my neck I wore a necklace that used to belong to my Great-Grandmother. Mothering is what I am called to do - and for this I am grateful. Someday, with God's blessings, my daughter may also share in this sacred calling. I know that God will guide her just as He guides the generations of mamas before her. And she will grow, just as I continue to grow.

Thank you, God for granting me the honour to be called mama and for helping me every moment of every day. I serve to honour your belief in me.

 

spirit mending

Last night I fell exhausted next to my husband on our crumbled sheets - my body curled small, knees pulled high, the restlessness of my body forming a knot in my right hip. My weighted sighs sink deep into the mattress carrying the burdens of my mind. My emotions are strung tight - too tight - as my fingers find the edges of my pillow and I squeeze. Hard.

My confidant over the past 18 years leans over and touches my shoulder, inviting me to release. My mouth opens awkward and the pause is overcome by an assault of emotions that have been tangled in my heart and mind over the last while. They shove and tumble out mismatched, uncontrolled, disorderly, slurred into each other - immune to time or logic.  The fault lines of my spirit are exposed, fragile under the looming tectonic shifts. My boundaries are being pushed, redrawn, red-circled, scribbled over - leaving a crumpled, directionless map.

What I once thought was so clear and simple has been muddied - leaving me lost and untethered.  

But with adversity comes strength.

Today at our church service, I felt God resuscitating my spirit. His voice was as strong as the black letters that carved out the white spaces to carry His message to me: "You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit." (Psalm 51: 16-17, NIV)

When I feel my spirit breaking, where can I go to be healed?

The pastor asked us 'what is the deepest desire of your heart'? My answer was clear: 'to know myself as God designed me to be'. Is there really anything more? God promised this to me through Isaiah: "I am your Creator. You were in my care before you were born." (Isaiah 44:2 CEV) 

It is the weight of parenthood that has been suffocating my spirit as of late. My husband and I take the stewardship of our two God-given children to heart. And our hearts are fragile. We feel like we've suffered many heart attacks while raising our children. Attacks from others and even ourselves. While our intentions are honourable, many times we don't know the way. What is best for one child is not for the other. What works for one family doesn't work for us. 

Rather than encourage commonness with other children, we choose to seek to unlock the door to our children's uncommonness. 

To show everyone, especially each of our children, the script that God has written for them.

I think Max Lucado says it best in his book Cure for the Common Life, "Don't see your child as a blank slate awaiting your pen, but as a written book awaiting your study." (p.124)

Our recent study sessions have been difficult.

As parents, my husband and I are learning to discern opinion from fact.

But most of all, we are learning to lean in close to God as He teaches us about His children and what He has planned for them.