When Sandra Tucked Me In

I lie awake and wait for him.  It's not too late but late enough and this foot is screaming loud and I just want to kiss goodnight and roll over and sleep.

And then he asks me if I saw the email. 

The one from Sandra.

No,  do I need to read it tonight?

You might want to.

I close my eyes and lose a few moments before what he says registers and I open them to say ok but he's already on that 4 he loves.  He reads words that make all of the ache and soreness and unworthiness and pain of the day go away.  They remove the fear that I might wake up to the negative and the worry that she might wake up sick and the dread of what tomorrow brings in a home not looking like a home. 

The thoughts that I had moments ago of being incapable of functioning in an order of peace.  Of forgetting too much and remembering too much. Of wanting to pull out this hair that's been so unruly lately I stare in the mirror and try to figure out what to do with it and it is the only bad thing that son brought.

Words of loving me and owing me and thanking me.  Of my spirit and my heart and my knowledge.  Of me being her blessing. 

Words of love that come from a heart with much more room in it than mine.  From a mind that thinks of others quicker than mine does and plans unselfishly and stands in the rain with no umbrella.  That cries silly over things most take for granted and loves my kids unconditionally.

 

From a friend who puts me in my place like a sister and never cuts me off and knows better than to be ashamed around me. 

He looks at me and I laugh.  What does she want?  I joke because it wouldn't take much for tears to come tonight. 

 

Because just when I forgot to say my prayers and let Father God rescue me from my day He rescues me anyway.  With the gift of her.

 

With words beautiful coming from this crazy technology into my bed and wrapping me like a warm blanket. 

 

When my fourth sister tucked me in.

A Letter To My Darlins' - remember the maze?

 

Sometimes we just don't know what to do? 

And in front of us lies two paths.  And both paths will get us to that final destination that is our longing.  Our desire.

But which path we take will determine who we are.  And by one path we are guaranteed suffering.

 

And by one path we are promised peace through suffering.

Sometimes we forget to pray for wisdom.  We pour ourselves out to our Father and ask direction but then  forget to pray for the ability to discern.  In discerning you perceive and make judgements - based upon your wisdom.  And God grants  wisdom and with His love He delivers unto you two gifts.  The gift of just feeling - of intuition - of just knowing in heart that a path is wrong.

But my darlins', sometimes we just don't want to know that it is wrong.  Sometimes we just want to believe that it really isn't and it is only guilt brought on to us by outside forces that causes us to feel wrong.

And sometimes we are just okay with it being wrong - but we really aren't - are we?  Because our heart wouldn't hurt if we were really okay.

You were knitted in the womb by your Maker.  And in that knitting He intertwined your being to be in His image.  And in His image you recognize wrong by - may we say your gut feelings?

And in His love He delivered the second gift of knowledge acquired.  But even one acquires one's knowledge from a God that gifted us with a brain designed by Him.  Complicated and wired so we may - by grace - gain knowledge. 

So in front of us lies these two paths.  And in our heart lies this desire.  And in a world perfect as created there would only be one straight path to there.  But by sin there are now two.  And only by sin and seperation, for God cannot be where there is sin, will you walk the crooked path. 

With eyes upon Jesus we walk straight ahead.  But with eyes on this world we must make curves and turns and fall into and try to avoid ditches and holes and bumps and piles of wrecked and twistedness that blocks until we are then a wrecked wrong struggling broken person who forgot - or ignored - the prayer of wisdom.

Do you remember the maze from your childhoods that was dark and twisted and full of scares?  The maze we would work hard on one time a year to bring you and others laughter?  Remember the verses along the paths and the light at the end of the cardboard tunnel?  It was to bring you wisdom.  It was a way for me to show you to see and learn. It was a way I prayed one grand memory would help keep you out of the dark.

So you, you who are the hearts of my heart - do not listen to me or to your daddy. Seek out for yourself and you shall see because you belong.
If you want to be wise open yourself up to your Father - for He loves you. 

Seek out what is the truth and then be ready to accept it and follow it. Pay attention.

Far beyond your own abilities you will then be gifted - you will discern - and you will know what path to place that next step. 

 

And you begin new - fresh and forgiven - always so loved by your Jesus right where you are - trusting and believing you will be blessed. 

When I Don't Want Him To Know

Sometimes I think she's Izzy's personal taxi.  Actually, I know she is.

 So tonight I promised to take Emily home.  Way past my due.

 

It's dark and raining so he takes her - he really is too good to me.

 

I waited until he left to google Malaysia.

 

He'll be going in a couple of months.  There to build longhouses.

 

For 8943 days I've never been away from him for ten. 

Ten days on the other side of the world.

 

Little feet patter up and lean over my shoulder -

 

How safe is Mawasia? he reads.

 

Mommy, 'ou know Mawasia is safe.

 

And he runs to brush his teeth.

 

Now I hear in the back of the house a little tune -

 

How safe is Mawasia?  Oh, ohhhhh, how safe in Mawasia?

 

And I run to son and see him swiping imaginary sword into space of imaginary something and I say-

Hush, don't sing that.  Daddy will know I googled it.
 

What is it I don't want him to know?

 

How nervous I am?  How frightening the thought is of him being so far away?  Of him not being in America?

 

And I know this is a dream come true for him.  It would be for me.

 

Or maybe I don't want him to know how little my faith is?

 

How I'm already questioning is this right?  Him away so far?

Us being left without him?

How I wonder why my comfort can't be with him here beside me when I know there is no comfort in any place other than the place called?

For other than the place called only is restlessness.

For out of will is only restlessness and pieces missing and searching.

And I hear him stomping the rain off his shoes at the front door.  I hit the exit button and promise myself no more questioning.  No more fears of the unknown. 

For faith large only has to be as big as mustard seed.