Thursday, September 26, 2013

Warriors in Training

My son,

You are strong.  You are mighty.  You are capable.

Your shoulders aren't ready to bear the weight of a family and its finances and its worries.  Not yet, anyway.  But you're learning.

Remember when you told me how hurt you were that your best friend didn't like you anymore?  That boy still won't talk to you and yet you pray for him every night.  You're learning faithfulness.

Remember when you used the last of your craft supplies to make a bracelet for me?  You're learning thoughtfulness.

Remember when you had to carry your books and lunch to school in a grocery bag because you forgot your backpack at school?  You remembered that backpack the next day.  And every day after.  You're learning responsibility.

Remember when you held open the door at the doctor's office for every. single. person?  You're learning respect.

Remember when you were coughing late in the night?  When I came in to check on you, you said, "Momma pray."  You're learning to rely on the Source of life.

Remember when you befriended the new boy in your class because you know what it's like to be the new kid?  You're learning kindness.

Remember how you  played with the toddler at church so her momma could have an adult conversation for a few minutes?  You're learning gentleness.

Remember when we were driving and you pointed out the stunning sunset and told me that "God must be an artist"?  You're learning to appreciate beauty.

And in these ways, and thousands more, you are teaching me each day of God's great love and grace and faithfulness.

When the world tries to crush your spirit, demolish your joy and make you doubt your worth,


You are strong.  You are mighty.  You are capable.
And you are loved.

Monday, April 22, 2013

A Psalm for Today

My mind is reeling, heart is aching.  All day long the television tells me of destruction and manhunts and explosions.  Evil struts boldly down the street.  Terror stalks and devours peace.  The enemy of my soul horrifies me with his unthinkable, vile acts.  Will the next ambush be worse than the last?  From where will it come?  How can I protect myself from an adversary I can't see?  And what about my precious children?!?

Come, all you people that I love, and we will hide out!  We will arm ourselves and stockpile supplies and dare anyone to threaten us here.  My two-story cul-de-sac fortress can shelter us from the darkness that lurks outside my door.  Well it can, can't it?  No, even here, protection is only physical and temporary at best.  I need a more permanent solution. 
And then I remember - YOU, Lord.  I turn to You, battered and shattered again.  My spirit is bruised and I need someplace to heal, to process. 
You are the God who was, and is, and is to come.  None of this world's craziness is a surprise to You.  I trust Your all-knowing goodness.  When I think about Your power, it's like my spirit takes a deep breath.  YOU are my security.  You are worthy of my belief.  All of my confidence is in You. 
And even when my newsfeed blows up with the next appalling act, I know that You are still in control.  Oh Lord, help me not to let my life be dictated by my 24-hour streaming, tweeting, live reporting, late breaking news culture.  Either I trust You or I don't.  And I do.
Your Word is true.  Your character is holy.  Your motivation is love.  You are unshakable, steady.  You are the foundation on which I build my life and to which I point my kids.  Thank you, thank you, thank you that because of who You are, I can live free from fear.  Free.  From.  Fear.  Truly blessed assurance.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

In a Year, or Two

As this blog has suffered neglect, time has marched on.  My love and I celebrated 12 years of marriage.  We have purchased a house.  Our baby (baby!) started kindergarten.  All three boys have become soccer players.  I have become a soccer taxi driver.

And Christ is King.

We have been through a difficult time at church.  And finally came to a resolution!  The trials of my dear husband working in a cutthroat, secular environment have worn us down.

But Christ is King.

We have celebrated birthdays.  Our oldest became a Christ follower and was baptized by his Poppa (my father.)  We have prayed over, been prayed over, studied, taught, rested in and claimed the Word of God.

Oh, how Christ is King.

Our nation has gone through a presidential election.  And storms.  And shootings.  And Olympics.  And war.

Christ, be King.

We have made new friends.  And served countless bowls of salsa.  We've played games together and prayed together.  And watched our children form friendships while wearing superhero costumes and running around like their capes were on fire.

Our Christ is King.

And I have thought and contemplated and examined and considered.  I have doubted and feared and grappled and resisted.  I have rejoiced and comforted and triumphed and encouraged.

And through it all, Christ has been King.  King of my days.  King of my years. 

King Jesus.  My King.