more small things...

"Not all of us can do great things.
                         But we can do small things with great love." 
                                                                                                     Mother Theresa

Other writings and things that have blessed me this week:
Study in Brown
Holly Gerth
The Christmas Story

the all-weather gardener...

     One cold late-autumn day, I stay inside to do the wife-task of ironing collared shirts for my husband... which I actually enjoy, sometimes, when I can put on music and make it a kind of meditative, worship time... one of the few times that I allow myself to slow down and be reflective while still in my house full of chores.

The pile has over a dozen shirts that I have saved up (or maybe ignored) until I must do this task.
     I heat up the iron, turn on the music and  
          let the Lord start to iron out the wrinkles in my heart...

I draw my curtains back so that I can look out onto the Shade Path while I work...

  The song on loop is one of my new favorites, Matt Maher's "Garden"... it is quiet (which I need while my two toddlers and one baby sleep), peaceful, and reminds me of the Lord's presence with me...

And you walk with me

You never leave

You're making my heart a garden

  As I start to relax, I begin to let down from my long day.  Being the mother of three small children can be exhausting!  I give, and give, and try to give more though my flesh is howling in resentment.  I am worn from their needs and requests, but also from the battle with my own selfishness.

I am faced in this quiet moment with my sinfulness... the mess that is my life... all that I do not do...
     and all that I do, that I hate...

And I look out at that cold, almost frosted garden...

Everything green is dying down...
   what's left looks  
     broken, brown, shabby...
     on its way into the dormant season...
     the cold, frozen, dead-looking season...

                                  ...Like my heart
                                                    looks and feels.



   Our Shade Path is very near to the sidewalk and the road, and our home is situated on a fairly busy street headed into the downtown area.  Many, many times in this fall planting season
I have been out gardening in the cold afternoon... sometimes in the rain with water dripping down my hood... sometimes with fingers mostly frozen.   

And they pass me by.

The cars... the kids walking home from school.  And I feel the weight of curious,  
                    unbelieving eyes as they see me out there in that nasty weather.
                                                                               I think to myself, "They must think I am crazy."

  And what am I doing?  I am perfecting my garden.
That brown mess.   Beloved mess.  Truly, I am out there because I love it!
I love admiring what is there, even in this harsh season.

  I am tweaking the beauty that will exist next year... moving seedlings... planting hundreds of bulbs...
The beauty is hidden, dormant... cannot be seen by normal vision right now.

Only through eyes of faith can I see it already full of flowers... 

new growth... new color combinations... new heights of beauty. 

And you walk with me

You never leave

You're making my heart a garden

...the chorus sings on and I am suddenly struck: I am a garden!

I am brown and broken, yet loved by my Gardener. 

He tends me in the most caring way...

looking happily at the new growth here and shuffling more bulbs there...  

and He is making my heart beautiful.

Like me, He is an all-weather gardener...
     enjoying me right where I am,
          and patiently working into me the beauty that is to come.

A mama's regrets and redemption...

     Last night as I went to sleep and my mind had room enough to play back the moments of the day, I remembered the sharp words I had spoken to Grace, my six-year-old at lunchtime... and the way we had hurried through the morning without hugs or greetings... and that we rushed to nap, rushed to meet with church friends, and rushed home again... then to bed with only a half kiss.

And then I remembered seeing small, reproachful glances... the look from a soul who knows she is being brushed aside, not valued.

And it was then, on my pillow, that I realized:  I had never stopped to enjoy her... to hug her long... to appreciate the wild imagination that fills her head...

I had not seen the bright blue eyes that beam when her mommy loves on her.
They were not there yesterday.

And the Spirit softened the stone. 

"I want to love better tomorrow.  To let her know that she has a mommy who cares, though not perfectly. To not be so caught up in my self-centered life that I miss more moments to share in her life."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     

     This morning, I woke up not really remembering the regrets of last night, but feeling a sense of commitment to loving Grace better today. Very briefly, I thought that the time to start would be during our school lesson in the morning, and maybe by just spending some time snuggled reading together instead of trying to plow through a math lesson as we have been doing everyday... but  

I promptly forgot all about spending "special time" as the day accelerated on.

Then, as Grace and I sat down to reading, writing and arithmetic, she asked in her quiet voice, "Do you think maybe... um... we could sit on your bed and read our chapter book together? That is really fun." 

And I told her that the Spirit was alive in her heart because He had already told mommy that is what we should do together this morning... but I forgot.  And she reminded me.  

Thankful today for things like:

• the return of shining blue eyes
• sorrow for short, pointed words
• wanting to try again
  
• a new day with fresh white snow
• a six-year-old who loves to listen to chapter books
• ... and to play in the snow with her little sister
• a baby who is mesmerized by the christmas carolers
• an extra rug for all the wet, snowy boots to sit on
• Christmas tree light to type by
• twice re-warmed, white rose tea
• hands to help me move three small children through the snow and into the car (thanks, emily :)
• quiet napping house

Dancing in the Minefield

...fantastic song about persevering in loving your husband/wife and the joy found there... has played on repeat in our home many mornings after a night of difficult "discussions"...

2 Corinthians 3

 ^1-3Does it sound like we're patting ourselves on the back, insisting on our credentials, asserting our authority? Well, we're not. Neither do we need letters of endorsement, either to you or from you. You yourselves are all the endorsement we need. Your very lives are a letter that anyone can read by just looking at you. Christ himself wrote it—not with ink, but with God's living Spirit; not chiseled into stone, but carved into human lives—and we publish it.  
^4-6We couldn't be more sure of ourselves in this—that you, written by Christ himself for God, are our letter of recommendation. We wouldn't think of writing this kind of letter about ourselves. Only God can write such a letter. His letter authorizes us to help carry out this new plan of action. The plan wasn't written out with ink on paper, with pages and pages of legal footnotes, killing your spirit. It's written with Spirit on spirit, his life on our lives!

Sing Over Your Children by Matt Maher

...this song has reminded me yet again of the Father's great love for us... of his relentless pursuit of our hearts and of my call to love my children like He loves me...