Tag: mama

Be Still…and just be.

Flipping through photos from this last week*, I came across a video my daughter had taken. I remember it vividly – messy hair, no makeup and in my pjs, I was sitting at our new keyboard and attempted to play from an old piano book. She saw my phone and snapped it up, then began to video me as I played. Self conscious from both my looks and my rustiness of years without a piano, I had almost asked her to stop.

The memory hit me differently today as I began to connect the similarity of my response in that moment and themes that have been coming up in my relationship with God. My daughter didn’t care if I was dressed or ready or put together. She didn’t care if my voice was squeaky, or if I was missing notes or playing slowly. She wanted to capture a moment, an experience. I wanted it to be perfect, she just wanted it to be. My daughter’s love isn’t based on whether or not my life is put together, I have makeup on, or my voice sounds like an angel. She doesn’t care if my clothes are put away or my dishes are washed, if I’m size 2 or 20, or if my hair is blonde, black, or purple (well, she does, but it doesn’t impact how much she loves me 😉 )
Recently I have been prayed over by two different people, and both offered very similar words and visions while praying for me. The theme, it seems, is that I’m trying and striving and fighting, doing all I can. And while God sees it, He’s instructing me to just Be. Still. To just be. To be free. To be me. While processing these prayers, I realized, I’m not quite sure how to do that. Yes, “be still” in its very basic sense is to sit, quietly, contemplative, open. But in the day to day of life, what does that really look like?
And how, exactly, do I just be me, when I’m not quite sure what – or who – that is? So much of my life, I’m pretty sure I’ve sculpted who I am based on what I thought others would accept and love and want to be around. I quieted my loud, obnoxious, blatant honesty and over-the-top-ness, replacing it with someone who was more reserved (and unfortunately lacked confidence).  I lost weight. I dressed nicer, dyed my hair, and learned (attempted) to do my makeup. I became slower to speak or respond, which led to a significant hesitance to share my thoughts or opinions at all if they significantly conflicted with someone else’s.
To know me, to meet me, you may not believe half of this. I am not a demure, quiet-spoken person who is perfectly shaped, coifed, and organized. But words, comments, beliefs, and life has a way of sticking with you, of leaving a lasting impact that you sometimes don’t really realize has interwoven into the tapestry of your being until you look back. Somewhere along the way, most likely in small bits and pieces, I lost a chunk of who I was. Of who I am.
But I’m on a determined mission to find her again. To find me again. To introduce my husband and my kids to pieces of a person they’ve never known, to be free to love and free to live, free in God’s presence and free in my purpose, whatever that may be.
And I kinda like the thought of being defiant, determined, and perseverant…it speaks to a kindling inside me that was starting to go out. It seems a good place to start <3
*written April 26, 2019

Angels in Charge

“For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.”                                                             Psalm 91:11

It was a day. A day of constant reminders, of big emotions, of bigger stressors. A day where I sobbed in church. Where I sobbed at the gym. Where I sobbed at bedtime. Each time triggered by a big move by a bigger God. It was just one of those days.

But the moment at the end…it happened in slow motion. As I watched, frozen, my sweet puffin dove gleefully toward the animal “nest” the girls had created, plummeting toward the bunkbed steps. I saw his knees hit, perfectly angle to propel his body forward, and within a split second, his face slam against the side of the wooden bed step. Internally, I did a mom gasp/shriek/scream/cry, but externally, I physically crumpled to the floor, scooped him up, and just held him. I looked at his face, checked his eyes and surrounding bones, then held him – close – and cried. “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.” Sobbed. “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.” Rocked and swayed. Thank you, Jesus.

My girls, confused, could not figure out why I was saying a prayer of thanks as my little guy screamed in pain and cried those tears of devastation he has when he’s hurt. They couldn’t see everything happening internally; in my heart, I felt an overwhelming rush of emotional awareness, gratitude, and grace. Of realization of what could have gone differently, so very wrong, with the slightest torque of body or bend of stuffed animals. And I cried harder.

Blake Eye

The puffin received a kiss of angels that evening. I know it in the depths of my soul. That day, from the get-go, God was reaching to me. Speaking to me. Sending people my way in impromptu prayer. And in one all-encompassing incident, the envelope was sealed: “Here I am. Trust. Me.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying my littlest was hurt as a way to send me a message. While I think those moments happened to an extent in biblical passages, I don’t believe God intentionally causes physical harm in the day to day. But as I looked at his healing scab tonight, it washed over me all over again, like an ocean wave that takes you by surprise: just because we get hurt, it doesn’t mean God turned away.

And I knew this. Oh, how I knew this. But tonight? It sunk in a little deeper. Hard times? God doesn’t leave. Grieving? Still present. Overwhelmed? Yep, He’s there. You lost your job, your spouse, your kids, your home? God is present, loving, gracious, and looking out.  When my 6-year-old can gush during an everyday conversation, “I just love how God loves us so much that He cares about that“, it requires a gut check to remember just how much He really loves us. How much do I love my kids? And His love is SO MUCH MORE!

My precious reader, He has not turned His back on you. When your heart is open, when your mind is ready, open your eyes. Look around, be present, and pay attention. He’s speaking to you, and He wants you to know He has not abandoned you. Sometimes, His saving grace may look a little differently than you had imagined.