Looking at the calendar this morning, I was surprised to realize I haven’t written or posted a thing in well over a month. All I could think was, I’m sure glad I don’t try to earn a living off this gig…life is simply too full of derailments!
The day of my last post, we got word from the governor of Oregon that gatherings of 250 or more were banned. Over the next week and a half we watched our freedoms drop away at a frightening speed…no gatherings of more than 25…10…none outside of one’s home. Churches shut down and businesses were shuttered. Those many days had us on pins and needles, wondering about our own businesses and the people who work for us.
Like many in the Christian community, I was devastated to hear of the passing of TobyMac’s eldest son, Truett, on October 23rd this past year. I hesitate to use the word devastated, but that indeed is how I felt for his family that day. He was 21 years old, same as my own boy, and I could empathize on that rare gut level, that place we connect as parents.
My beautiful truth #4 of 2019 actually started a couple of years prior, so I thought I’d write a post to segue into it, rather than try to cram it all into one epically long post.
Feeling like a used piñata this morning, I rolled out of bed and shuffled upstairs to the coffee maker. My joints were protesting as I settled in to my favorite rocker and I tried not to let it get to me. Aches and pains are par for the course with fibro, and I’m acutely aware that even on my ‘bad’ days I don’t have it as hard as some I know. But the past week has been fairly rough, physically speaking, and I’m a tad bit overwhelmed with my to-do list as well. It was in this somewhat pitiful state that I lifted my hands and prayed a simple prayer. “Father, if You do see me, could you somehow let me know today?”
I actually wrote this piece several years ago. Today my son turns 20. Twenty. No longer a baby, no longer a boy scout, a dancer, or a teenager. He is really and truly a man, and I couldn’t be more proud of him.
So take heart, my mama friends who struggle with kids who learn differently, kids who stretch you, who baffle you, who make you doubt your ability to do this momming gig. Our Father’s got them. And in His time, they will turn out to be far more than you dare to imagine…
Better Than I Imagined
My finger was bleeding. As I watched the crimson bead form on my fingertip I wished, not for the first time, that I was more skilled with a sewing needle. I reflexively put the injured digit in my mouth and looked down at the size 10 men’s ballet slipper resting in my lap. I had to get the elastics on before my son’s next lesson. Resuming my work, I smiled as I thought of all that had led to this rather surreal moment. My son, the ballerina?
Glancing at the woman to my left, I smiled. Her arms were full of warm, rumpled toddlers, two little girls who were obviously exhausted from a long day at the Magic Kingdom. The tiny princess closest to me clutched her glowing star-wand and shifted to get comfortable. The bus gently swayed, rocking the girls into a fitful rest on the journey to our resort.
If a person has ugly thoughts, it begins to show on the face. And when that person has ugly thoughts every day, every week, every year, the face gets uglier and uglier until it gets so ugly you can hardly bear to look at it.
A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.
This quote, by one of my all-time favorite authors, immediately made me think of Philippians 4:8.
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” (NIV)
I don’t know about you, my friends, but I sure need this reminder on a regular basis! May we think on lovely things today, yes?
Grace and peace,
Photo credit: Featured image by HalfPoint at bigstockphoto.
It was an ordinary day as I pulled out onto the highway. The late morning traffic was light and my mind wandered as I drove the familiar route, alone for the moment, a rare pleasure in my busy days.
As I approached the quiet downtown area, I slowed. Up ahead, at a cross street, I caught sight of a familiar navy blue truck. My heart did a crazy little flippy thing, an automatic response that happened almost before it registered that it was my husband, now crossing the highway on his way home.
Stabbing the end button with her finger, my friend erupted. “I’m so stupid!” Shoving the phone into her purse, her face was flushed and angry. “I can’t believe I did that!” Apparently she had forgotten to pick something up earlier that day and the phone call she just ended was the reminder of her lapse.
She rushed about, muttering more self-condemnation under her breath as she gathered her things and snatched up her keys. Still fuming at herself, she gave me a distracted hug and left.
Looking out the large bay windows, the morning mist covered the hills on the far side of the view. The water was glass, smooth and perfectly still. Wisps of mist hovered over it’s surface, cotton candy tufts reflected in the watery mirror. I watched the sun peek over the farthest hill, it’s soft yellow beams stirring the misty phantoms, making them dance away with the last of the morning darkness.