Just Because

If something happened to the man I love I would ask three questions . . .

Who will reach the stuff in the top cabinet for me?

Who will every time give me the first bite - the still hot soft it's his favorite part too first bite - of his dipcone?

Who will roast me the perfect marshmallow?

These things done for me over twenty-four years now.  Never complaining, and only a few times hesitating on the dipped cone - only to give in.

And I'm in the middle of this little post, just a little silliness to always remind my girls how good their Daddy is to me in the little things, when my phone rings.

He is calling.

He had worked the sound booth at our church for the funeral of a just one year old baby girl.

Strangers to us.

But is anyone really a stranger in the family of God?

I hear it in his voice, how hard his morning had been, before he speaks what he had texted me an hour earlier -

That was too hard.

And I sit in the living room of an eighty year old legend.  Such a remarkable woman that even our legislative takes the time to wish her a happy birthday.  And I'm telling her about someone who really likes my Gregg, and she interrupts me to say - Who doesn't?

And for a moment I think about cracking a joke - but I feel a flush of pride and say, I know - everyone does, don't they?

So, happy There-really-isn't-anything-special-about-this-day day, darlin'.

Except that I share it with you.

Love you,

Rie

ABC's According to Max

Max, your entire pizza is sitting on my bed with only one bite eaten.

I know.  It not Koger band and I don't ike it.

What is Koger band?

Koger band.

What is Koger band?

Ou know, Mommy - Koger band.

No, I don't know.  What is Koger Band?

Sisi, tell Mommy what is Koger band.

Lots of whispering.

Lots of grinning.

It is what ou buy in Koger and it is a band.

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQ    STUVWXYZ - the ABC's according to Max.

My Prayers Answered, the Final Gift of Four

You know when you want to climb mountains and shout from 'em?  When you feel like you should take your shoes off because the ground beneath feels holy?   When it's so sweet it feels like a dream but it's better because it's the wonderful wonder of reality?

And what is real in all of life is what you know in moments like these.

The beautiful gift of four. One and then another and then another and then another. And all so undeserved.

But isn't each gift?

And I've messed up so many things and done so many things wrong.

And isn't that why this is the biggest wonder of all?

That in spite of me I would joy in the grace that is the joy of a lifetime in the lives of each of my children.

Would it sound silly to say that it was the biggest smile I've ever seen on his face?  Because it was, you know?  The biggest smile.  Spring of 2012.  February 26.

Bigger than when he took that first step and we all had silly goofy grins of pride on our face - and he knew it was him.  Bigger than the time when Gideon coming was only one day away - or no days away.  Bigger than seeing the footprints Santa left behind or getting ten more minutes before bed or me saying yes to the second oatmeal pie.

He couldn't stop smiling.

And he said he felt funny inside and touched his stomach.  Smiling.

He ran to me, Mommy, I said my payers by mysel tonight.

Then again, ten minutes later.  He jumps up beside me.

Mommy, I asked Jesus to live in my heart.  I asked Jesus to make me a Chistian.  I told Him I love him best.

I mute the TV and pull him to my lap and he feels greater because he is and I know because of the beautiful gift of three before.  

And there is the smile.  He was almost shining and maybe he was?  That smile was large and he twinkled and I saw it.  Jesus in my son.

He can't answer all the questions correctly.  He's only five.  He doesn't completely understand the devil.  He only partly understands sin.  He doesn't understand death or hell.  There will have to be more later -

But he does understand the cross. 

Do you believe Jesus died on the cross?

Yeah, so I don't have to.

What happened after He died?

He wose.

When?

Thee days later.

Where is Jesus now?

And this is the part.  If I forget it all this is the part I want to remember.  This is the glorious part that becomes my greatest gift - my final gift of four answered prayers.

The smile is still there.  I silently think his cheeks must be hurting.

In me, Mommy.

I hug him tight.  Yeah.  But where does Jesus live now, after he rose?

And he looks at me, smiling.  He stares at me as if I am the one who doesn't understand.

He lifts his hand and points one little finger.  Right at the middle of his heart.

In meeeee, Mommy. 

And he laughs as if to say, silly mommy.

But who possibly loves more on this earth than a mother?  Who else understands the things they don't understand themselves?  Who else sees the possibilities of their future more than a mother?  Who more than a mother hurts more when they hurt?

Who else worries more that they might turn away?

And isn't a mother pregnant for a lifetime?

And when their flutters turned to kicks that turned to pain that you knew of but had no idea of, each time forgotten fresh, in each blessing turn of gift life you whisper and plead and need to know they will be safe in the life past this one.  That He will grant what you will never be able to.  That He will give the real life.

This you pray.  Even when they only flutter. 

And here I witnessed the last, as I witnessed the three before. 

The first who wanted to lie with me in the dark and whisper it soft.  As if it was so beautiful the moment might break.  Gentle with small hand in mine and a great confidence.  And beautiful it was.  And my heart swam for in this moment I realized the greatest gift of grace is the gift of life to her.

The second who didn't understand why she had to ask for what she knew was already there.  Hadn't He always been there?  She couldn't remember Him not.  He could have easily been her first word.  The help of a dear pastor to fill in her blanks.  Her taking my hand and stepping out.

The third with the crowd in the living room.  Family all around.  Rare moments of all together and she pulls me to her room.  She cannot wait.  She wants to do it now.  And in the quiet of a room, shared wall with love loud seeping in, she bows and prays.

And now this fourth gift.  He so unexpected, who I love wild and strong and in that way a mama loves only a son, he takes a knee alone.  Warrior.  Joining an army of the King.  Running to me to tell and feeling funny inside and smiling huge on the outside.

What is such grace as this my Father grants?  Proof that His love is not only greater than my sins but called to these four in spite of me.  Where I failed He triumphed and loved more and spoke softer but louder and called deeper and gave all to the ones that I would give all to

but the thing I cannot give that is His alone is the only gift there is.

When He Shows Off His Smarts

He's out on the porch playing with a neighbor little girl.

This cup was made in China, he says.

Ohhhhh, she says, clearly impressed.

China is far far away.  It is in Texas, my son says.

Well, maybe not in Texas, but in Spanish, he continues.

Ohhhhh, she says.

We yell from inside - Max, where is China?

In that place that speaks Spanish, he yells back.

Ohhhhhh - we say.

That's it, baby boy.  You impress those girls.  They really go for the brainy guys.

the day that represents the day

I receive the text on my way home from church Wednesday night.

Are you alright?

I text back yes and share that this week does this to me every year.  This holy of weeks that shames me into admittance that so few of my days in a year are spent hurting over the pain my Savior endured.  And is there a word deeper than pain?

Admittance that my lack of faithfulness brought Him to a cross and even still that cross I so often forget and what love could be stronger to bear that cross knowing I would still lack faithfulness to even remember? 

I attend service of darkness and sing and pray and watch the blowing out of candles and feel tears slide.  I wipe my face and for a moment wonder if I can stifle sobs I feel coming.  And the pain from earlier in my day mixes with grief and reminder of grace and I feel threatened to lose control.  Then with the final Amen I exit quickly and quietly and prayer is answered when I make it to my car before the crushing weight of all this wins and I break.

I listen to the story of K. and there is a clock inside spinning backwards remembering and I know only by grace.  And I wonder - where is K's grace?

Some small sound wakes me to a morning still dark.  I avoid the clock and pull covers up over my head. But there is no rescue of sleep because here it is -  the day that represents the day.

Good Friday.  Pious.  Holy.

If I had been there would I have seen my name written in the stripes on his back?  RIE carved in letters so deep that only God's love can erase.  Not time or shame or sorry but only love.

Would I have seen my face in the angry sneering crowd?  My mouth turning Hosana to crucify?

And my answer screams yes and I push myself deeper under the covers.  I remember last night I closed my eyes to the day that He prayed for another way and accepted the way of the cross.  How could I have rested when He prayed drops of blood?

Then he returned to the disciples and found them asleep. He said to Peter, "Couldn't you watch with me even one hour?" 

Matthew 26:40

I rested in sleep because of the crack of whip moving faster than the speed of sound and nails pounding crushing small bones and heart breaking looking through space and time -   my face.  RIE.

Just make it through today, just make it through today I repeat over and over.  And then morning will break again just get through today, I pray.  And what will I do from noon until three?  I will wash dishes and clean house and shop for a birthday gift and remember to remember.

Only by grace did I realize early enough in my life, before it was maybe too late?  Never for love, but maybe for redemption?  And on this holy day I wonder again Where is K's grace? Help her, Lord, to find her gift of grace.

And I long to go home and look into His face.  I want to touch the scars and fall at His feet and sob unstifled I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry.

I must await my heavenly home but not my seeing His face because He wakes with me and rises with me and rests with me and loves me a cross much.  Today the day that represents the day I will remember agony and thank often and wait for new morning to break.

When Your Chatterbox Is Speechless . . .

I'm carrying folded laundry room to room. 

This new baby nephew sits in room with Max. 

Baby love is whining. 

Max, you need to talk to him.  Give me ten minutes to finish this and I'll come get him.

And in sweet sing song I hear . . .

Heeeyyyyy, what you do today?

Pause.

Heeeyyyyy, what you do today?

Pause.

And then a long drawn out - 

Uhhhhhh . . .

Pause.

Heeeyyyyy, what you do today?

Pause.

And then the sound only a little boy can make when he imitates vomiting.

Pause.

And then again . . .

Heeeyyyyy, what you do today?

So, he may be Max the Great and The Maxinator and superhero The Maxman,

but . . .

he's no conversationalist, not a gabber, not a chatterbox.

But sweet baby nephew - he made not another sound.

And Why Are There Days Like This?

It was ten o'clock on the night before the cake was due. Six hours had passed. Only another half hour to go. Finishing touches and placing the dump truck on top.

This story has to be told. Not for what happened, but for how it ended. Love unfolding as sweetness baked.

He only wanted to watch. Some kids, most probably, would have to stay away. They might put their fingers in the mix, or the icing. But he doesn't really like cake. And he is a good boy.

So he's standing up on a chair by the cake.

She only turned away for a second.

But in that second he could only just look at the button no longer. He had to know what that pretty purple button did.

I heard the fall and the scream at the same instant.

I turned from where I sat, less than an arms length from where the cake had been.

I moved to the floor beside her, taking her bone tired body, working since 6:00 that morning to come home and bake again, in my arms and said words that comfort failed.

That face I love. The one with eyebrows and eyelashes like mine. The narrow one with the high cheekbones and small mouth. I take that face into my hands and promised words I can't even remember.

It wasn't just any cake. It was to celebrate a year that eleven months ago we weren't sure baby nephew would ever see.

When the fear was that this day, which should bring first birthday joy, would only open wound that never heals. A fear now only a memory.

And here it was, one year later, joy undescribable. Thankfulness unending.

Happy birthday, sweet Crosby.

The list was made and her daddy was on his way to the store before I went into the back room.

Where I took his whole little boy body of my son into my arms. This little body choking out I so so sorry in sobs. This little body I womb grew and protected and cried forth.

I held on and fought the tears that I couldn't let come.

This is when a mama has to shine. When a mama must be unconditional.

When hand needs to be gentle and pain already felt in little heart is all the pain body needs. When gentleness must be chosen over harshness.

When she must be comfort and lighthouse and haven. When she must, without fail, show son more important than cake.

When she must fulfill a promise made when only hand touched and rested through flutters and then kicks and stomach large and whispered the first I love you.

All while my other love was trying to push back pain and hurt and do what adults with responsibilities do. What cousins who love great and celebrate life do.

Keep going. Start over. Forgive.

Why are there days like this?

She only cried when she went to the front porch and called that young man she loves. The one with the red hair and gentle blue eyes and slight Cajun accent. The one Katrina brought us. The one who doesn't eat cake but loves a girl who lives cakes.

The one who has taken our place in so many ways. The way it should be.

The one who rushes over and whose presence brings comfort and laughter. The only one who could have done that on that night.

So all who love her start over with her while this little one . . .

heart broken moments before when sister went to him and held him and loved him and promised him all was forgiven and good, finally slept in what was comfort love peace - and safety.

And when all was quiet and the clock showed 3:00 am and light shown on just the two of us . . .

Mama, go to bed. I've got it. I won't be long.

I'll go to bed when you go to bed.

When you can do nothing but love - isn't love what you do?

Love and watch and stand guard over heart that once beat in rhythm with yours - and always will.

This is why there are days like this. So love can show off.

Without a Change Was There Ever a Step?

I see it in her eyes.  It is guilt.  It is shame to answer the question I have asked.

How do I know?  I recognize myself, right there.  Right in the eyes of my child.

We read Mark 22:36-39 together.

 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

  Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind."  This is the first and greatest commandment.  And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself."

I ask Max if he has someone he doesn't like that he needs to practice loving.  Loving like he loves himself.

He laughs and says no.

But across the table I see her face.

I say, I do.

And then she speaks thru her fingers cupped over her mouth.  One of my favorite things about her.

She frowns, I do, too, Mama.

And there it is.  Guilt.  Shame.  She doesn't want to tell me.  Tells me to guess.  I guess wrong.  Twice. 

Then she shares about a new girl she's only been around a few times.  She's not feeling the love, y'all.

But she's feeling the guilt of not feeling the love.

Tears are wanting to fall.

I go to her, put both of my hands on her face and tell her it is okay.  It is okay because there will always be people that we struggle to like.

Life is full of struggles and we fail and we fall.

And why is it that we think our ladder to heaven has rungs further than our eyes can see - when there is only one step.

One simple step full of faith of what cannot be seen - but can be felt in a change.  Without a change was there ever a step?

So I share my failure to love and we promise together to try harder to keep this greatest commandment. Given by the One who walked this earth and understood.  But knew even through that understanding what must be.

What we must be.

My hands leave her face and I hold her hair so soft and remind her what I expect of her and ask her to expect it of me.  It is easier when done together. 

We will remember that God loves that person as much as He loves us.

We will start over.

I'm Whispering In Your Ear . . .

I'm tapping you on the shoulder.

I'm whispering in your ear.

I'm looking you right in the eye

and

telling 

you

Jesus wants you to be His valentine.

He wants you to love Him with all of your heart and soul.

 With all of your mind

and with all of your strength.

And

in

return

He will take your soul

and rescue it.

And

you

will

have

love

for

an

eternity.

A little early . . .

Valentine's Day is right around the corner.

I'm thinking about you much lately.

About us.

About where we have been and where we are going.

I remember this little game we played with each other here a couple of years ago.

And I think of what you went through with me this past year.

I remember after it was all over asking you why we never ever - not once - said the word cancer or talked about what if.

How you kissed me right before I fell asleep and told me you'd see me soon.

Your answer -  faith.

And with your faith you gave me faith.

We made one more curve on the road to a lifetime.

And I love you.

And I love you.

And I love you.

So here again - a little early 'cause you're not expecting it -

Coming up with the top reason why I love him was hard. There were three tight runners for the number one spot.

Second runner up. He has never, and I mean never, criticized me.

Not for my clothes, or my hair, or my weight, or the house, or any of the other gazillion things he could criticize me for. Never. That's one in a million to me.

Runner-up. He loves me. For me.

Not for the me I let others see, or the me you see here, or the me I want to be. He loves me for the me I would never ever let you see. The other me. The ugly, sinful, hateful, mean, spiteful, remembering me. That melts me.

Winner. A forgiveness he granted me at one in the morning on January 11, 2009.  A forgiveness I did not deserve. Forgiveness for a secret I had kept far too long.

Icing on my cake - never, ever has he mentioned it since. That's sexy and romantic and melts me and is far more than one in a million to me. Far, far more.

Whatever the question . . . the answer is yes.