Friday 24 April 2015

My Flesh Longs (Psalm 63:1)

My flesh longs for a buzzing joy.  For the cheerful chaos that is many littles, without the messes and cries and squabbles and disobedience and needs, oh the needs.  It longs for a peaceful busy, a happy hive of bustling without all the tussling.  My flesh yearns for this impossibility.  And what will never be points me to Who Will Always Be.  And He teaches the middle of my flesh to long for him and the fleeting ease I search for gives way to beauty from these humbling, whining, exhausting ashes.

Wednesday 22 April 2015

God Who Responds (Psalm 91:14)

He calls me from the other room, stuck at the top of the bunk bed again.  "Dow, Mama.  DOW."  His voice is insistent, right from the get-go, as if he knows that I might well make him wait.  Even after years, or maybe because it's been years, I just want to wash one more dish, chop one more veggie, mop one more corner, finish one more page before I put down what is me and respond to what is him.

But my God moves in response to me.  What kind of God gives me, restores me, delivers me, revives me, delights in me, sets me on high?  What kind of God accepts my meditation as sweetness, my prayers as incense?  Thank you God that the moment I set my love upon You, dirty dishes clatter in divine sink and you run to me, soapy hands outstretched and dripping still.

Tuesday 21 April 2015

Sweet (Psalm 104:34)

My thoughts turn to prayers as I roll over and let awareness of the day take over.  My frustrations turn to pleas as I massage my scalp, hot water loosening muscles and soul.  My joy turns to thanks as I gaze out the window, taking in the thin white blanket-reminder of how close we are.  My complaints turn to humility as I recognize my place, my weakness, my need, my reflection, the grace extended to me.  Moment by moment my world points my heart, my thoughts, my attitudes into the ongoing song of my Saviour.  And my meditation is sweet to my God.

Monday 20 April 2015

Waves (Psalm 107:23-32)

To see the great works of the Lord, to live His wonders deep
Is to ride the raging waves, and know my soul He'll keep.

Wednesday 15 April 2015

Sweet Words (Psalm 119:103)

Had the ringing phone made my heart beat faster in anger or had looking at the caller ID made my mood plummet, I might have been ready for what was coming.  But it didn't and I wasn't.  Her words were accusatory and cutting.  Their affect entirely out of place and out of the blue.  My guard went up as quickly as my self-confidence went down.  The giver of deflating words left a wake of simmering anger, discarded hope, and stolen assurance.

But how sweet are Your words.  How gentle and tender and loving and pure and sweet.  Your words speak life to my soul and joy to my heart.  Revive me again.  Bring me up again from the place the world has carelessly tossed me.  Fill my mind with the songs of rejoicing You sing over me.  That I may delight in You, remain in You, behold You, know You, adore You.  And find me in You, Giver of Sweet Words.

Friday 10 April 2015

My Little Dadoo

The indignation you feel when you are the only one not allowed to ride your bike to the park is passionate and all-consuming and deeply rooted in your need to be acknowledged.  Vehemently refusing to be baby, tag-along, or little, your cries of "dadoo" (me too) or "ta-da-da" (ta-da) speak volumes of your need to be seen, to be valued, to be loved.

And see you we do.  You look back at me as you climb the play structure steps, once-fluorescent sweater now caked with mud and once-gummy grin now lined with chiclet-teeth.  I see you wearing the skills and independence of two years proudly, venturing out with fragile confidence.

And value you we do.  You drag baskets of clean and sorted laundry to bedrooms in which they belong, grunting as you go.  As I pick up the trail of socks you leave behind, I marvel at what I am learning of you, even as you are learning it of yourself.  I value your independence and willingness to help, your sense of order and rightness, your quick-thinking and sense of humour, your love of books and of the outdoors.   

And love you we do.  You nearly doze off in the warm sun on a lunchtime drive home and my heart swells as I catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror.  My warm fuzzies bubble to the surface in the form of giggles - both mine and yours - as I try to rouse you, only to watch you now let your head lean farther to the side and pretend to sleep.  You can't quite pull it off as you sneak a peek to see how I will react, both of us trying hopelessly to maintain a straight face.  

Lachie, the One who made You delights in You, and we are so thrilled that we get to too.

Thursday 9 April 2015

Low (Psalm 116:6)

To Him who Saves me when I am Low,
I need You, oh I need You.  So many times I put on my blinders and put up my guard.  Within these walls I determine moods and spirits.  So many times I create good out of mediocre.  Silly out of frustrating.  Even growth out of difficulty.  But when the walls don't hold.  When the problems of those more stubborn, more lost, more entrenched seep in.  When the tumultuous relationships with those less joyful, less malleable, less likeable saturate my soul.  In those whens, my shoulders drop and my heart sags lows beneath the weight.  Anger and frustration shoot up like weeds in the fertile soil of gossip and self-righteousness.  I am burdened and I am low.
I need You, oh I need You.  God who saves me when I am low.  God who lifts me up.  God who has upheld me from birth.
Here I am, claiming Your praise from down low.

Tuesday 7 April 2015

Loaded with Benefits (Psalm 68:19)

To Him who Daily Loads us with Benefits,
Thank you.  Thank you for what You do for me.  And thank you even more for who You are to me.  I praise You for the days and the hours when I feel the glorious fullness of good things You have showered on me.  I praise You for the truth of Your promises when I am ignorantly blind to them.  You are not satisfied with ordinary blessings or mediocre love as You are the God of pouring, filling, overflowing abundance.  So, Lord, may my response be anything but ordinary and mediocre.  I want to thirst, long and ache after You.  I want to stand, rise, and soar in Your greatness.  I want to live in awareness and praise all the day long.  Lord, become greater in me.
Love, Me who is Daily Loaded with Your Benefits

Monday 6 April 2015

Broken (Psalm 51:8)

My focus is broken.  I am too easily distracted and too selfishly jaded.  I am flighty when it matters and fixated on matters irrelevant.  Songs of Him lost amidst the deafening hymns of the ho-hum.  I forget.  How often I forget.  My heart bounces here and there and my focus is broken and He is Healer, Fixer, Whole.  He remembers.  How often he remembers.  He heals, covers, and restores.  He makes glad.  He replaces my broken focus with joy.