The day had begun on a note that placed my feet in hell. Remembrances of past failures held up to me as accusations attempted to swallow me whole. What image of myself was I to believe? What mirror being held up would hold within it's reflection real truth?
Any given day holds within it more tasks than can ever fully be accomplished, only lending themselves even more to the possibility of perceiving the day and times wrongly. Are those tasks left undone an indication of what benefit I bring forth to the human race?
Delight found encouraging others to open their ears and eyes to hear and see, another mirror held up.. an eternal one. Words flowing, declaring the nature and character of the One whom I love and am loved by, words flowing calling hearts to open and not become hard or calloused to that which the Lover wants to speak forth.
Speaking those words but listening as well.
Appointments that need to be kept. Back to the pediatrician's office with the one I can't make well. With the one that I am told about "gray" medicine. This is not an ear infection, this is not a sore throat. This is not black and white. This is "gray." This is a years worth of unanswered questions and a son enduring physical pain. I love our pediatrician I trust him. I sat in his office and wept. I can't make him well. You can't make him well. He is in pain.
More tests. More waiting.
Errands that need to be run. Milk that needs to be bought. Bread needed to make the millionth peanut butter and jelly sandwich within our household. Driving to the store.
Other realizations land upon my heart. I think back to the morning and of how during its hours our oldest son was absent. Staying at a friend's house for the week as a parent travels, he wasn't waking up within the confines of our home. A reality that is about to come upon us in fullness as he takes the next steps of his life.
More questions. More thoughts.
A stop sign. A pause. Maybe too long. Foot on brake. Hands on stirring wheel. Eyes lost in a daze. Warm sun shining its light into my being. Wandering heart. Wandering mind. Mirrors of the past, shouts of accusation, illness, growth, life, need. Tears. Cheeks. Change. Doubt. Fear.
Then there is her. Potentially one of the most joyous moments of my day. Picking the 4 year old up at preschool. Man, she runs. She sees me and she runs towards me. Bright beautiful face, huge shining eyes, huge amazing smile. Pure adoration. Mutual. In her heart she finds delight at the sight of me. I find delight at the sight of her.
More errands. More thoughts.
Walking bare foot to the bus stop. "Momma, Twirl me, Momma." Sitting in the South Carolina warmth soaking through my exterior. Warming my flesh. She curls up into my lap not wanting to sit by the ants or the spiders, but finding comfort within my criss crossed legs. I stare at her. She is life to me. Beauty. Simple pleasures.
More warmth. More simplicity.
Leaping off the bus, he arrives. The bus is his magic carpet. He will repeat Kindergarten. In the scope of things it will all be alright. I see his joy, his abounding body, and I know the gift of time will fashion him well. I am not worried. Not really. This road we have walked before. I've seen his siblings walk roads struggling through early elementary to flourish within the upper grades. I want success for him. I want joy for him. But he is success and he is joy. Standards and measurements don't get to dictate that, not really.
More joy. More love.
The complexities of a household, of a life, of a family. The ever ebb and flow of its tides. The ever certainty that certainties aren't of this world. That complexity dwells and pulls upon our hearts and the frailty of our lives.
More errands. More thoughts.
Sitting at the DMV parking lot. Thinking of this town. Thinking of this place. Our oldest son became a driver here. We are leaving soon. The familiarity of the municipality and its streets will leave my life. Uncertainty strikes again and again. Another parked place. More tears. More deep breaths.
More warmth. More simplicity.
"Neither have I walked in a pretense of things greater than I...." Psalm 131:1 Aramaic bible in plain english. Some matters are too lofty for me... some things must just be held open handed before Him.
Moments that hold too much. A heart struggling to withstand all the change. Longing for simplicity. Stability. Consistency. Some semblance that the changing tides won't sweep in and steal feet from out from beneath where I stand.
Naming and claiming the truths I hold dear won't suffice. But I do think upon Him. More tears. Head now upon stirring wheel. Ache of leaving. Ache of the unknown. Fingers aching to latch onto something. Finding the robe. Finding the garment. Amidst a crowd of another kind. Pushing through. Desperation. Him. Lost in a crowd. Finding Him. Power flows. Transaction.
More joy. More love.
Pause. Selah. Rest.
In repentance and rest you will be saved. In quietness and trust is your strength. Isaiah 30:15
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