Today I got to carry you
on a walk, in which you usually set
a pretty fast pace
without many rests along the way
But today, you needed me
you reached up with open arms
and without any words
So, I picked you up
and felt the beauty of your weight in my arms
and the heat from our exercise
you snuggled your sweaty head
nuzzled into my neck
and whispered "mucky"
I said "I love you too, mucky"
And I carried you
and you grounded me
to this moment
as your strong mama
in whose arms you find so many things
My son, in whose heart I see
the joy of the Lord
in whose eyes, I see my own
in whose heart, I sense such an amazing knowing
that I cannot articulate,
because I don't fully understand it yet, myself
Today, I helped you take a load off your feet
and your growing legs
and rest your tired body.
You helped my heart soar
and my soul know the peace of God
in such an incredibly tangible way
This probably doesn't sound very "Christian" of me, but for a long time, I couldn't stand "Missionary Sunday" at church. You know, the one where a missionary tells of the amazing things they have seen God do and how God sent them to do such and such and then the church prays for them? Yeah, those. I think I might have even hated them for a season, and would leave the service to avoid the pain it stirred deep within me.
In my early twenties, I thought I was called to be a missionary (in the traditional sense of the word) to college students, along with my husband. We went through six weeks of training, worked hard on fund-raising for over a year, had countless late nights shuttling to various meetings and casting the vision we had received from the Lord. Throughout that season, we continued to offer the calling to vocational ministry back to the Lord, seeking affirmation or redirection. For the entire year, when we would ask, "I…
Today at church our pastor Rob talked about making room for Jesus in our lives. The Spirit really moved me through the words God spoke through Rob and God's word. Rob even used the illustration of our son running laps around the chairs in church, with me chasing after him, and how Zachy paused every so often with his hand up and extended towards me with a "come on, mama." There were tears for many, including me.
The Holy Spirit began preparing a response I felt prompted to share in front of the whole church, unrehearsed, raw, ripe with tears and a shaky voice. Here's what He's teaching me and I shared (paraphrased, but hopefully still true to the first raw response I shared just an hour or so ago).
Ever since becoming Zachy's mama, I've been learning to "make room" for him and who he is. I've struggled with my own pride and expectations, fears and definitions of belonging. I've learned a lot and still have more to learn, but so far, when…