Be kind to one another
He keeps it on all day.
Next day I find label sticking to the edge of the doorframe of his bedroom.
Why is this here?
I ask him. Thinking I know the answer. Whispering a prayer I know the answer. Knowing that sometimes you do get things right with your children and get to reap.
All standing there in person reaping what I have tried so hard to sow.
I put tis here like lu do. When Gideland comes he will see it 'cause I lov Gideland.
And I'm grateful and a little proud because I have taught him to place in his path that which you can meditate on that is good.
That which Gideland's mother taught me.
But then I have to stop. Because I'm struggling right now. I've even found it hard to breathe today. I've had moments of fear that have made me feel as if my throat is closing up.
How does my heavenly Father feel when He cannot reap in me what He sows?
Given to me as breath for when I can't breathe.
I take down the nativity. The last of the Christmas decorations I have been dragging my feet on. I carry as many figurines as I can in my hand to speed up the job. Then I pick up the baby and forget he's not attached and he falls out of the manger.
I catch this clay baby before he hits the floor and I breathe relief.
Gently I carry him to the box that will tuck him away for another year. Stored up in the attic with dust and memories.
But that's where I stop. I find myself seperating this baby from the other pieces and placing him on the shelf beside the broken punch cup. That day I was so broken down.
I will leave Jesus out all year. For not only my eyes but the eyes of my son to see.
I think of the label.
How I long to proudly wear on my chest, like a badge of honor -
I love you, Jesus.
I trust you, my God.
Thank you for breath when I can't breathe.
And as a friend reminded me today -
Thank you for being bigger . . .