Apr 11 2014

The Fleeting Moments

Sometimes it is the fleeting moments that are the hardest for me to enter into with my children (aren’t they ALL fleeting though?) ~ specifically things like reading books or imaginative play. Somehow I have always found it easier to incorporate my children into my world than it is for me to enter into their world. It’s difficult to remember that reading The Bobbsey Twins may be even more important than cooking dinner; playing “hide & tickle” may have more eternal effects than having freshly ironed shirts & folded socks; going on hikes in the woods may teach more important lessons than accomplishing page after page in certain textbooks. These fleeting moments of wide-eyed wonder and full-on joy are not always easy for me to grasp, they slip right through my fingers while I sit here saying “just one more minute” ~ especially as I look up and see that suddenly an hour has passed. An hour of my children’s lives that I will never get back.

I don’t want to miss out on reading those books, feeding those imaginations, tickling those round bellies, chasing those rippling strong legs, holding those tightly gripping hands, answering those never-ending questions.

My mom and my grandma are constantly reminding me of this quintessential poem (which applies to every child, not just the fifth, of course).

Song for a Fifth Child

    by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She’s up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping’s not done and there’s nothing for stew
And out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo
But I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

So what are some of the ways that I have learned (and am continuing to learn…) to better embrace these fleeting moments with my children??

Going to the library.
It really helps to have new materials to keep minds engaged (especially Mommy’s…), to spur new conversations and new questions, so I try to keep our library bag constantly filled but also continually changing. Storytime at the library (I go to the preschool geared storytime, as it is sort of a happy medium for the age range of my kids currently) gives me an hour each week to simply sit with my kids and let someone else do the reading, and it inspires me in my own reading with my kids too.
After being at the library, we often have a good excuse to stop for french fries or milkshakes, errands at a grocery store where they have fun little cars attached to the carts, or a romp at a park. It is good to be faced with out-and-about things once a week. :)

Getting chores done consistently.
When I am consistently staying on top of dishes, laundry, cleaning, and other such piddly things that are basic necessities of being a housewife and homemaker, it is easier to be willingly interrupted. Doing the dishes takes less than ten minutes after each meal, but if I don’t stay on top of it, it can wind up being an hour if the sink is piled-high (same principle applies to other areas of my home work). Staying on top of my chores, and involving the children in it whenever I can, is a wonderful way to stay more consistently available to embrace fleeting moments with the little ones.

Being a homebody.
Being at home the majority of the time, not always on the run, gives me many more opportunities to slow down and embrace the kids and their lives.

Saying YES to my children.
When someone asks me to come play, to please read books, to sing songs, to go outside, to pull out board games or dance around being silly… saying yes is the best thing I can do. I don’t always do it… in fact, only about half as often as I would like to… but God is giving me grace and helping me grow this skill. With each year that flies by, I feel like I improve on saying yes to my children. May God grant me continued and deepened grace so that YES is my most frequent answer when these fleeting moments show up on my lap!

Embracing the day, or even rather, the hour.
Looking at the big picture is often overwhelming, even saddening. Embracing little moments as they come is not only more joyful for me but more profitable in the big scheme of things. It’s sunny? Okay, let’s go plant flowers and go on a walk right now ~ sweeping and ironing and changing bedsheets can wait for another hour. It’s rainy? Okay, let’s build blanket forts and eat snacks by dim flashlights while listening to books on tape ~ we can always have leftovers or nachos for dinner if I don’t get around to making a well-balanced freshly cooked meal because I’m took busy embracing little moments with my children!

Remembering Ecclesiastes.
It’s all fleeting. The housework, the yardwork, the correspondence, the educations, the playtime, the bellies that need fed, the diapers that need changed, the lives that are being lived. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t supposed to embrace it all and do it with gracious, God-given gusto. That’s exactly what Solomon in his wisdom suggests. Life IS fleeting. But LIFE is exactly what we are supposed to do. I need to remember this as I work, live, and play with my children. It may be fleeting, but it is wise to blow with the wind when I know I can not embrace it and keep it as it is.

Looking back.
Nothing gives me perspective on the rate of my babies’ lives than looking back at photo albums. How quickly they change! How fast I forget! How little a time I get to have them with me in the daily grind! Remembering and reminiscing is a huge reminder to me that embracing the moment is key in my calling.

Looking forward.
Hope for the future, confidence for what lies ahead, joy for what God is working out & working in ~ this takes faith in Him and His sovereignty. What really matters? Yes, they need clean undies and beds with sheets tucked in; they need to learn how to read and how to perform arithmetic; they need nourishing meals and bubbly baths; they need naps and bedtimes… but the way these necessary things are communicated to them is even more important. The children need hugged, tickled, read to, played with, laughed over, tousled. My children need to know that I love what matters to them, what goes on in their heads; that what bothers them, bothers me; that I’m in their corner; that my life is for theirs; that being their mommy is more than simply having given them life and sustaining that physical life ~ that being their mommy is in the big things, the little things, the necessary things, the icing-on-the-cake things, the physical and spiritual and emotional things.

So this is my prayer, my hope, my desire.
That I would be the kind of mommy God wants me to be, so that He is molding me into the kind of Grandmommy He wants me to be, so that I can best be a honed tool for the Kingdom work that He wants me to do. Life is fleeting ~ my life and their lives ~ and I want to be diligent, obedient, joyful, and embracing in the midst of the mist that is the gift of life.

2 responses so far

Apr 08 2014

Glimpse of a New Corner

Published by under Blogs,Links,Thoughts

Beginning this month, I am a new contributor for a (mostly) online ministry called Mommies With Hope. My first post is scheduled to be live in a couple weeks, and I’ll post the link when it comes out. In the meantime, take a look around Mommies With Hope, and please pray that the group of Christians there would band together to increase God’s glory, hallow His name, and to further His Kingdom through the ministry of coming alongside others suffering infertility and babyloss.

This is just a little glimpse of a new corner where I get to minister, and I’m pretty excited to see what God’s great plans will include.

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Apr 08 2014

What Was, Would’ve Been, Is, and Will Be

I am seeing God’s kindness and mercy in so many details of life right now. But things are still hard, nonetheless. It has been 9 1/2 weeks since I held Heritage in my hands: ten weeks yesterday since we found out she died. Gabriel continues to talk about her, and it is really beautiful to listen to him regarding his baby sister, and he asks us to try explaining what God has done, and what we’re praying He will do next.

I am remembering my tiny baby girl and what she looked like both on the ultrasound screen and as she laid so peacefully in my hands, thinking about what it would have felt like to feel her kicking and hiccuping from inside my womb, and wondering if she will have the chance to be a big sister sometime in the future…

And I miss her all over again. What was. And what would’ve been.
Meanwhile trusting that God knows, and controls, every single what is & what will be in our future. :pray:

Isaiah 45:7
I form the light and create darkness,
I make peace and create calamity;
I, the Lord, do all these things.

Jeremiah 29:11
For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord,
thoughts of peace and not of evil,
to give you a future and a hope.

Psalm 115:3
But our God is in heaven;
He does whatever He pleases.

One response so far

Apr 02 2014

Spring Cleaning…

At least in theory, I want to do some spring cleaning. Certain things need to be done: the flower bed needs a little help before sunshine does its thing, the hose needs brought out, the Christmas lights need taken down, the porches need swept off, and the outdoor furniture needs a good spray & wipe. Other things would be a good idea: washing all the windows, thoroughly cleaning the kitchen, giving curtains & bedlinens a good washing, making sure the pantry & other storage areas are well-ordered & well-stocked. Other things sound like brilliant ideas but are probably not realistic in my here & now: wiping down all the wooden trim in the house, dusting lightbulbs, anything that requires scrubbing with a toothbrush, etc. In my dreamworld I would love some more trim up in the house, especially so I can add some curtains to a few more key rooms: but again, not certain that this is the year that will get accomplished, and that’s totally okay. It is good to know what things should be done, what might be icing on the cake, and what is not realistic for me right now with where God has us today. :)

So right now I’ve got my oven self-cleaning, the coffee maker and the dishwasher each running a vinegar rinse, and I cleaned the sink with a good borax soak earlier while I took the kids to the library & out for lunch.

I have great plans to throw some other things in the dishwasher and washing machine as the day goes on… and perhaps I will get the kids involved in helping me do some spring cleaning/prep outside on the porches this evening.

I love to have an organized and tidy home (if not always clean in that “spotless” sort of way… I mean, I do have little kids and live in the country, after all!), not because I want to be fussy but because I want to pursue a good balance of beauty & functionality. I want my home to be a place of rest and refuge for my family, and also for our friends.

So what are YOU doing to freshen up your home this spring? How do you get the whole family involved? What things do you find worth doing versus unnecessary? And how do you make sure you stop spending too much time glancing around the internet for ideas, and actually get off your bum to accomplish some of the said tasks?! ;)

3 responses so far

Mar 26 2014

Fun as a Family

Published by under Family,Life,Quotes

Sometimes you just have to have some fun with the people you love most, no matter what other crazy things are keeping you busy or distracted. :)
And that’s what we did recently, as our little family went out on a bowling & pizza date! We had a blast, and it was wonderful to embrace some “now” which is fleeting and sweet.

We’re about to go down some really big roads, which are going to be flanked by some great giants. I expect many of them to be taunting me, throwing things at me, maybe even grabbing at my hair or tripping me with unseen sticks. But even in the midst of walking a road flanked by giants, I want to make sure that I am focusing on some marvelous things: like a delightful husband, and three little children whose lives are inexplicable miracles (that’s redundant, but too true). Time is flying. And I want to enjoy life now. I want to laugh. I want to  be thankful. I want to make a difference. I want to effect kingdoms and generations through the lives I shape now. I want to leave a wake. Lord, help me. Help me to see what you would have me to do, and take my eyes off the giants and focus them on You, Your kingdom, Your people, Your work given into my feeble hands.

Clichés are true.
Time flies.
You can’t take it with you.
You don’t know what you got till it’s gone.
Dust to dust.
In the ground, we all have empty hands.
Enjoy life now.
And now.
And now.
Before the nows are gone.
See the gifts. Savor the food, knowing that you will have to swallow.
~N.D. Wilson, Death by Living, p109~

Classy shoes Gabriel bowling Asher bowling with Daddy Evangeline helped Mommy bowl; or took the blame when I missed all the pins! Steven loves bowling... precious little miracles, having fun with Mommy My sweetest biggest boy! Asher's turn, with Mommy and Evangeline to cheer him on!

Drink your wine.
Laugh from your gut.
Burden your moments with thankfulness.
Be as empty as you can be when that clock winds down.
Spend your life.
And if time is a river, may you leave a wake.
~N.D. Wilson, Death by Living, p117~

3 responses so far

Mar 19 2014

I’m not interested in corpses & tombstones

Published by under Faith,Links,Quotes

“Liturgy without life is like putting makeup on a corpse.
Doctrine without this same life is like spelling everything right on the tombstone.”
(Against the Church, p. 42)

When I read this quote here today, I was reminded to pray for this kind of LIFE.
I’m just not interested in corpses and tombstones, and this serves as a reminder that the counter to that is precisely found in praying for life.
May God continue to grant me the courage and the strength and the joy to actively pray for and seek this life for His glory.

One response so far

Mar 12 2014


Published by under Quotes

David comes into this story as a glorious type of Christ. Goliath was a giant, but he was also a serpent, a dragon. The Hebrew word for his armor means scales, which made him a gigantic reptile, like a dragon, and David topples him with a wound to the head (Genesis 3:15). David fights him with the same weapons that he would use in fighting wild beasts. When he is done, he takes Goliath’s armor and places it in his tent (1 Samuel 17:54).
This is precisely what Jesus does when He came upon the strong man. He attacks, like David did. He is victorious, like David was. He strips the armor (panoply), as David did. He partakes of the spoil after battle (Luke 11:22). Jesus is the greatest of all giant-killers. He gives victory to His people . . . and He awakens the envy of any who would be great in Israel on their own terms.

~Douglas Wilson, blog~

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Mar 03 2014


Published by under Cooking,Grief,Life

I think it has been a month now since I have really cooked a truly proper dinner from scratch. I’ve done cop-out type simple dinners like eggs and toast, but mostly I have been using my reserve of freezer meals. And it makes me so sad to use them up. I filled up the freezer last summer & fall during the months that we spent trying to conceive ~ I knew that I would need them either when dealing with morning sickness or in the case of a miscarriage. I knew that, one way or the other, I would not be up for cooking real meals for a while. So I’m using them according to the purpose for which they were made ~ according to one of the two possible purposes anyway.

And it just makes me sad that I’m using them for this reason. That I have to rely on freezer meals because my grief is so encompassing that I can’t cope with cooking, rather than because my body is so busy tending to my little daughter’s nurture and protection that I don’t have the energy to stand for that long.


I long for spring. The spring of life that follows winter’s death. I need resurrection.

2 responses so far

Mar 01 2014

Thirty Thankful Thoughts

Published by under Life,Thoughts

This last week, I finally reached the blessing of being thirty years old! And in light of this gift of continued life by the grace of my Father in heaven, I wanted to highlight thirty things for which I am extremely thankful. I’m humbled to be given the gift of life, thirty whole years of breathing oxygen thus far, and especially to have the gift of a redeemed life by grace… and just want to share (in purposefully random order) some specific thankfulnesses with you.

Psalm 107:8-9
Oh, that men would give thanks to the Lord for His goodness,
And for His wonderful works to the children of men!
For He satisfies the longing soul,
And fills the hungry soul with goodness.

1. The one husband God has given me makes me dizzy with thankfulness—each day with him is a cause for praise. That I get to fall asleep in his embrace, cry on his chest, laugh in harmony with him, be the one he comes home to every night, gaze at his handsome profile across the table as he interacts with our children. That we create memories together, that we fill in gaps for one another, that we sharpen one another in our unity and diversity, that we serve the same God and build the same Kingdom, that my people are his people, that his family is now mine too, that our families melded into one. That his red hair complexion and his love of the psalmist David are what first drew me in, and are still two of the things that continue to draw me deeper every day.

2. Grace. The incredible, indelible grace of God, and how He graciously gives me so much of it that I simply want to let grace pour off of me and onto others around me. That I don’t have to understand it to receive it. That I don’t have to recreate it in order to reproduce it and regift it—because I can’t.

3. The written word, and the ability to write words with simple little taps of my fingers (talk about a grace). I don’t know what I would do without written words—I’m so thankful for written words.

4. My daily toil. The fact that I am called to daily toil. The specific daily toil God has put before me. The repetitive nature of that daily toil. How I get to improve on the same little tasks all the time. The way I get to try out new things all the time. That my toil involves making beauty, making messes, making chaos and making order in turn, making new things old and old things new. That it is for glory and because of glory. That it is good toil. That it aids generations—both the ones that eat its fruit now, and those that will glean from its dropped fruit in the future.

5. Windows, both physical and metaphorical. For my eyes to see that the world is much bigger than I regularly remember. For the sun to stream in. For dimply little faces to press against, peer through, cover with mouthmarks and fingerprints.

6. Theology (particularly right theology, hah!). That it helps me understand God and Scripture. That there is always more to glean. That it challenges me—that it makes me think, makes me need to know, makes me want to grow. That it shows me Gospel and grace. That it shapes me, that I cannot shape it.

7. My musical instruments—the one that I frequently play and the ones I desire to play more frequently. I am thankful for these things, made from wood, metal, gut—touched, plucked, thumped, fingered by me—full of vibrations, air, movement. That sound gets from these things into our ears—that these sounds reach my soul in ways not much else does. That the layer of dust on these musical instruments has not ruined that magic. That I can work harder, day by day, on including more music in my daily toil. And that if it doesn’t happen, there’s grace for that too.

8. Dates with my husby. Whether at home or out on the town, spur of the moment or planned in advance. Nightly connecting through conversation, weekly cheese & wine dates, occasional family dates on a weekend, the gift of “just us” dates for shopping or coffee or calendar-planning. I am thankful for time spent together (which is really the only qualifier to us as far as “date” goes), and thankful that we’re only 6 ½ years into the married lane—that means we, God willing, have many more dates ahead of us than behind us!

9. Water. What a gift—and what a picture, too.

10. The blessing of life, and that not only have I been given that gift myself but I have been given the gift of interacting with other lives—sharing life together with other lives—family, and friends who are as dear as family. The incredible fact that lives have even been made, created, formed, grown inside of my own body. The challenge of life, and how it reminds me that I need that Creator to continue creating and sustaining—because I’m just dust, and we know what happens when dust is left to itself. (Really—just look at my piano.)

11. My eleven children—they are such a unique blessing to me, and I am so thankful for each one of them. I never knew I wanted to be a mommy to eleven children… and if I’m honest, there is a big part of me that still doesn’t know I want that. But I am thankful for each child God has given to me. I’m so thankful to know that life in eternity is going to be so much bigger than life here on earth—each of these children has a calling, a purpose, a place in the history of God’s world and universe and plan. I am thankful that He chose to use my humble womb to add to His Kingdom. I didn’t know before just exactly what an incredible mercy that is—and I still can’t put it into words. I still can’t believe I have eleven children.

12. The internet. But you can’t blame me for this one, because without it, I would not have met my husband—and that is a slippery slope to all kinds of horrible “would not have beens” that are the makings of nightmares. Plus, in the wake of grief, the Christian community God has given me via the internet has been an incredible grace. And then there’s always the perk of quick communication, and easy access to… well… just about anything in the world.

13. Crying. I am thankful for tears, and the strange gift of crying them.

14. The Psalms—reading them, singing them, praying them, writing them out, memorizing them, reciting them. So much found in the Psalter resonates with me, and I am so thankful that God in His sovereign grace gave us those 150 chapters to cling to as we walk through life and face so many of the emotions and scenarios that are addressed therein. The Psalms really remind me that Scripture is for me.

15. Food—cooking, baking, eating together, watching Food Network shows, its smells, its tastes, its allegories, its chemistry, its artistry—and how it reminds me of my mother.

16. Hot coffee, especially when it is creamy and frothy with sweetness and milkiness.

17. Wood—its strength, its grain, its versatility, its smell, its many facets, its presence in my home in various manifestations, the metaphors it paints—and how it reminds me of my father.

18. A bedroom that smells of Yankee candles, massage lotion, and freshly showered skin. ‘Nuff said.

19. Fresh bread—making it, smelling it, eating it, slicing it, breaking it together with those I love. What a gift, and what a picture it shows of God’s active grace.

20. I am thankful for Sunday. For worship and the depth and breadth of that, which I cannot fully comprehend. That I get to covenantally ascend into heaven on Sunday and worship with my entire family—that I get to share this not only with my children here but my children there too. For fellowship and the love that oozes from conversations, hugs, candies, handshakes—the passing of the peace and the breaking of bread that flows from the grace and Gospel ridden worship of Christ’s people in the beauty of holiness. For rest in varied forms. For laughter like on no other day of the week. For our family traditions—popcorn, ice cream, and movies with the kids; wine, cheese, and chocolate with my husband—for the way this day of the week embodies and influences our family culture for the other six.

21. Siblings. That word is fat and full to me, and I am thankful for the what, how, and why of that.

22. That in the course of my life I have had the unique privilege of not only knowing all four of my grandparents (and got to meet two of my husband’s grandparents), but also four great-grandparents and one great-great-grandmother—while I do not claim to fully comprehend the multitude of blessings that come from such multigenerational living, I do heartily acknowledge and embrace that there is indeed a multitude of blessings that I continue to reap from having known and loved (and been known and loved by) these ancestors of mine.

23. Living in the country, with trees and mountains, fields and wildlife as my close neighbors. And as the icing on the cake, living here in a house that we designed together and oversaw the building process together, and now consider it our privilege to turn it into our home and family refuge. There is more thankfulness in that than I can describe.

24. Hands. I love hands. I love having hands, holding hands, seeing hands at work, using my hands, massaging with my hands, feeling hands rubbing my neck, helping hands learn new things.

25. Modern medicine. In more ways than I could begin to describe, and for more reasons than you need to know.

26. Wisdom: the pursuit of her, the winning of her, the fruit of her, the love of her, the challenge of her, the Book of Wisdom about her, the fight for her, the desire for her, the receiving of her.

27. I am thankful for gifts. Take that in as many facets as you can conjure—I mean it each way.

28. Two sons and a daughter—here with me today. Their dimples, their laughs, their cries, their creativity, their struggles, their victories, their outfits, their crazy questions, their interactions, their artwork on my fridge, their photos in my albums, their bodies embraced between my arms, their varied redhead shades… I am thankful for everything about these three amazing children. So thankful that I get to be the one who daily participates in how God is shaping them, preparing them, using them, growing the Kingdom by them, and battling the Enemy through them.

29. Memories—they are hard to come by, but impossible to let go. And the scars they leave. I’m thankful for each one, both the bitter and the sweet, that God has engraved into me.

30. For thirty years, my daddy & my mama have been my counselors, and have loved me more than I even know (and I know they love me pretty darn deeply). I’m thankful for their hoary heads, the wisdom they impart, the love they shower, the grace they share, and how they not only keep covenant together so beautifully but encourage us to do the same. I’m thankful they are my parents, my neighbors, my friends.


It is certainly just the tip of the iceberg… but these are the first things that came to mind as I pondered thirty things which fill me with thankfulness. I thank my God and Father in heaven for giving these things to me, for giving me the eyes to see them, for giving me an avenue to share them so that He may be further glorified for His wondrous works. Amen.

3 responses so far

Feb 28 2014

Four Weeks

I just looked at the clock: it is 12:42 on Friday afternoon. It was exactly four weeks ago that I held my daughter in my hands. What a beautiful moment, what a horrible moment. What a piece of history. What a painful wound.

Have you ever had those moments where you felt like something was etched into you? Like it’s written into, not only your story, but into your skin, your very being?

Heritage did that. She—her life as well as her death—left me wounded.

Just twenty-eight days ago, my wounds were gaping holes: the kind where ripped skin, torn muscle, gushing blood, and deafening screams of anguish set the stage. And I know that someday the wound will heal over to the point where it will be scarred: most people may not even really notice it, they will no longer ask about it or wonder “oy! How did THAT happen?!” But that time is not yet. Right now, my wounds are scabbing—they’re in that stage of going back and forth between bleeding and scabbing, bleeding and scabbing. The wound is not as fresh and gory as it was a month ago, but it is still a wound. It hurts, some days maybe just stinging but other days completely throbbing. As much as I wish I could rush the healing process, there is no way to make a wound heal prematurely—the scabbing, scarring, healing process takes time.

Four weeks sounds like a lot to some people, and in some perspectives and in some situations, it may be. Can you imagine being without food for four weeks? Can you imagine standing still for four weeks? Of course not, because four weeks is a long time. Then again, four weeks is also a short amount of time. Can you imagine marrying someone you just met four weeks ago? Can you imagine climbing Mt. Everest four weeks after you learned to walk? Of course not (or at least, it’s incredibly remarkable and rare if you can!), because four weeks is not much time at all.
People not only wound differently and react to their wounds differently, but they heal differently too.
There may be two people with identical wounds, yet they may heal differently. They may heal at different rates, their scars may look different, their pain levels or pain tolerances may be at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Every time I see a baby or a pregnant belly… every time I even hear about one… every time I think about August… every time I look at my shelf piled high with injections and medications that are sitting untouched… when we hear news from my specialist that makes me think we might not be able to even try again, let alone have success again—these things pick at my scabs. I bleed. I hurt. I cry.

That’s where I am. That is my reality.

It isn’t where I will always be, it will not always be my reality. Because my scabs will harden, dry up, scar over. I won’t always bleed when poked (although I may if I’m sliced or sucker-punched).
The God I serve is the Great Physician, and He is in the business of healing, of redeeming, of making all things new.
Even this grief over the death of my baby girl will be nothing but a scar someday. I don’t know if it will be the kind of scar that you have to squint to see, or if it will be a bulgy purple thing that will burn if something so much as brushes by it. But I know it will scar. That is one of the ways God works: He doesn’t take us on a journey, and then bring us back where He got us at the first place. He takes us on a journey, and then takes us on another one as a changed person. There are purposes for the scars He gives me. One journey leads to another, and the scars I received on previous journeys will be there for reminders—for myself, for others—on subsequent journeys. These scars show who I am, who He made me to be, and how He is remaking me.

So as odd as it sounds, I look forward to the day when I am scarred. When the scabs are gone, when the blood stops flowing, when things have reknit and been remade into something new. It is hard to predict what the purpose will be, but I look forward to finding out.

And in the meantime, I ask for grace to endure the bleeding, the scabbing, the picking.
It’s been four whole weeks already!
It’s only been twenty-eight days since I held her…

3 responses so far

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