She is like me...

She is like me...

She looks like me, except she has her Daddy's brown eyes that shine like honey when the light hits them just right.  She is loud, emotional, strong willed, all of which my husband insists she gets form me, and as she grows older I see more and more of myself...

I have fought fiercely to raise her differently than I was raised.  There is no alcohol in our home, she has her Daddy, she has been in church since 9 months before she was born, and I do my best to teach her modesty.  And she is a good kid...

But I still fear that she is like me...I fear she will be like the me that she never even met.  The me that made bad decisions..even when I knew better...the me that loved with my whole heart, and in turn left pieces of it behind when relationships ended.  The me that was sure the void in my heart would be filled when finally, just maybe....surely... when I found the man of my dreams...

I pray..alot..for her.  I pray for God to protect her, for God to guide her in making right decisions, for her to be a good friend...for her to avoid this pitfall, or that destructive path... and a few days ago, in my praying..God whispered something to my heart that stopped me in my tracks...

I was praying for her to be spared from a hurt..and He said, "But what if that will be part of her testimony..."

It was a thrilling and terrifying revelation all at the same time.  I cannot keep her from all the hurts out there, and I do not need to break my neck trying.

So again, as I have done many times before, I physically turn my hands, palms up.  She is yours Lord, You love her even more than I do.  You have a plan for her life, and I trust You will guide her steps.  Make me the mother you would have me to be.  Help me to know when to speak and when to be silent.  Help me to set healthy boundaries.  Give us a closeness, so she knows that no matter what, she can come to me.  And above all, Lord, help me to pray for her with eternity in mind.

Pondering...

Conditional Sisters

I attended two funerals in the last month.  Both grandmothers with four children and many grand and great grand children.  But that is where the similarities end.

I was curious when I saw a few older people that I did not recognize as I approached the funeral home.  One was my grandmother's sister, we did not recognize each other, so thankfully she asked who I was.  I was actually beginning to wonder if there might be two funerals happening at the same time. Once she introduced her self, I was surprised.  I had heard this sister's name, but it was usually in reference to some spat.    A little while later another lady came in...another sister.  My grandmother and her sisters (there were six of them) have not spoken in years, since some big blow up, the details of which I was not privy.  The two sisters did not recognize each other.

How do you grow up in the same house and not know your own sibling?  How do you let so much time and ill will go by that you find yourselves finally in the same room and not know it?  The one that asked who I was made her way to the other sister and introduced herself.  And they spoke...not sure the words exchanged, but they spoke.  Both in their 80's, both now in different states, neither had spoken to each other, or to the one whom there was no longer a chance to speak to, for many years.

My grandmother was notorious for holding grudges.  If she was mad at you, she may just stay that way....like for good.  If you had gained weight, she was gonna tell you about it.  She also watched me when I was little so my mom could finish high school, and she loved to see my kids.  She crocheted blankets for us, and made sure each of my kids had a small gift from her in the last year or so.  I remember the row of rose bushes she had planted by the road, but you better not dare pick them, or she would whoop you.  She grew a huge garden, and had chickens..I remember her ringing ones neck once.  I loved her, she loved me.

I wonder...was it worth it?  Was the blow up worth never speaking again, growing so far apart you no longer recognize each other?  I wonder if they even remember what started it all...I bet my grandmother did.  As I ponder this, I realize how much more I am like her than I care to admit.  I can just about tell you what Jamie was wearing one day about 18 years ago when he said something particularity hurtful...I can get mad and stay that way...for a long time.  I have at times been okay with cutting people out of my life because the relationships were just too much...work.  My love has been conditional.  I love you,  as long as ______ .

Are there people in your life that need forgiving? Are there ones you need to seek forgiveness from?

Do it...

I imagine funeral homes are are famous places for regret.  I imagine her sisters felt something toward her, or else why come?  We certainly did not expect to see either of them.  God has been reminding me to be intentional. As I drove away for the cemetery I had an added grief come over me for the cousins  I will probably never see again, we have no more common grandparents... Life rolls by and some times bowls us over.  Those we love can become casualties to the everyday grind, especially those we do not see everyday.

Be Intentional...

Love Unconditionally...

Pondering...

Thirsty...again...

My various blog posts typically roll around in my head for awhile before I "pen" them....two such thoughts have been rolling around recently..until they collided and became the answer to one another.

I was shopping..alone (my favorite way) and I spotted her.  Nicely dresses, on a Saturday morning no less.  Hair and make up done, and both of her shoes were the same color even! But this in and of its self was not really what struck me.  She was not shopping alone.  She had three little ones under the age three in tow...one in the cart, one at her side, and one strapped to her.  All little angels, neatly dressed and clean.  But again, this was not why I really noticed her.  Mind you I use the term "at her side" loosely for the eldest angel as she  had to touch every item they passed, as little ones do, but her mother was not phased by the wandering hands.   What I noticed about the foursome was the peaceful spirit and smile on that mothers face.  As I continued to cross paths with her as we went up and down isles in oposit directions, I pictured the acrobatic act it must have taken to strap the littlest angel to her chest.  While my children are well past the car seat stage, I remember very well the cat herding it took to get them from the car into the store when I was alone with all three of them.  On our final pass the middle angel sitting in the cart waved at me, and her mother gave a Mary Poppins giggle as I waved crazily back at her.  I gathered my groceries and left the store, but I pondered the scene for days.  What was that smile about? How did she manage to get herself together and have all three of those kids clean at the same time?  And did I mention they were all three happy at the same time as well?  Did she have some magic fairy with her that I had not noticed?

This brings us to the second possible blog that had been rolling around....a topic I wrote on some years ago actually, about a well.

We travel through the desert of life, sun beating down on us, hot thick sand, and we trudge threw.  All the while we circle a well, a well of living water.  All too often we allow the heat to over take us, even as the well is with in arms reach.

I have waded through that hot sand, cursing it.  Looking to the sky and  asking God why..why is this so hard?  And He whispers..."Come to the well, child..."  But I carry on, growing more and more weary with each step.  I wonder why I am so thirsty..."Come to the well, child..."  I wonder where the relief is from the blistering sun, maybe if I walk faster, try harder there will be relief.  Maybe the sand storm will stop whirling around me if I just...do something.  And the circling just continues.  I even go into the desert with out my armor...I leave my belt of truth behind, and give the enemy room to speak lies.  I drop my shield giving the fiery darts full access to my soul.  And yet my Father continues to call, "Come the the well, child.."

As I pondered these two thoughts, the Lord rolled them into one.  That mother in the store did not have a magic fairy...she must have had a yielded spirit to our father's voice calling her to the well. Maybe that morning before her shopping trip she stopped dragging her feet threw that hot sand and drank in His goodness.  Maybe instead of trying harder, she rested at His feet.  Maybe she put on her full armor before she ventured into the desert.  And while I only got a glimpse of her seemingly charmed life, I know the truth.  I know those angels are not always happy, and I know her smile some days fades in exhaustion. But maybe just maybe she knows the truth of how He sees her...oh to know that truth.

And so our Father waits , waits for us to stop struggling, waits for us to come, empty handed to Him.  Lord forgive me for my stubbornness, forgive me for not full resting in You.  Thank You for continuing to call...continuing to offer relief... I love You Lord...

Just Me, Pondering...