Children

Christmas Comes

aging, Children, Christmas, contentment, courage, Faith, family, Forgiveness, grace, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder, writing

When December came, I willed myself to move toward Christmas in a more hopeful way. I’d read somewhere to look for “enjoyment” not to pursue perfection in my home, my gatherings, my notice of life all around me.

I have had one particular Christmas that I tended to decide my uncertain feelings about Christmas because of.

This year, God put an expression in my heart and as the days of December unfolded, it became my solid truth, my olive branch of peace to receive and to offer up.

“It won’t always be this way.”

This is the truth, friends.

Meaning that Christmas as a six or seven year old that was scary and scarring is long past.

All of us lined up in a row, the question my mama asked, “Who do you want to be with, me or your daddy?” The tiny little brown station wagon loaded down and pointed in the direction of leaving never left, nor did any of us kids. It was not my mama’s finest moment, it wasn’t mine either. But, oh the moments and the Christmases since. They’ve been a mixture for sure of ugly and pretty. Still, hope has never left me, has always come ‘round again.

I don’t have to fight for Christmas to be good, I don’t have to prepare for sadness, despair or even illness simply because those things have happened at Christmases before.

Christmas days in hospitals or bedside with illness or in bed yourself may have happened and may again.

Christmas next year won’t be exactly as it was a few days ago. It may be sweeter, there may be hardship, the people who are present and the times we are together may require acceptance and change.

This is life. Life is a good gift.

I’m missing so many moments as far as having “moment” photos, the goal.

Moments like standing next to my worshipful daughter singing “Joy to the World” in candlelight. Like the room filled with people as my brother offered prayer. Like the faces of all the babies when the paper was ripped and spread all over the room. Like the expressions of those I love in conversations about life now and in the coming year and although the word wasn’t spoken…evidence of redemption.

Those were moments not fit for pointing a camera at, those were moments stored up in hearts.

Hearts that are reservoirs of hope.

Mine is full. I pray theirs is too.

And you. Living in light of it all.

I wasn’t sure how Christmas would be this year. Nor can I be sure of the next.

Only certain that hope will come near again.

The 23rd Psalm

Abuse Survivor, Children, courage, Faith, family, fear, grandchildren, hope, mercy, praise, Prayer, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder, worship, writing

The psalm became a reset a few years ago, a meditation as I was “put down” by a spell of vertigo.

Later, with the first grandchild, it was an upstairs string of thought, naptime sway of a winding down, a comfort through lullaby.

Our church just finished a series on the passage. It was both sweet and informative.

It was pure. It was and is still comforting.

Yesterday, I walked the “granddog” in the quiet daytime streets of my neighborhood. I sang out loud as we strolled.

Thought I’d record the 23rd Psalm I’ve been singing to babies and dogs and singing “over me”.

Psalm 23 as a Lullaby

The Lord is my shepherd. No want shall I know.

He leads me to quiet, still watered places I go.

He won’t let me stumble. He won’t let me fall. He’s with me. He’s with me. No matter at all.

He points me to pastures to lie down and rest.

He guides me to places that He knows are best.

And whenever the meanness tries to come near, He stays close beside me. He won’t let me fear.

He sees me through shadows that remind me of death.

He feeds me and keeps me when cruelty looms here.

He watches me struggle and yet never leaves.

He’s with me. He’s with me, no matter at all.

Whenever, forever, wherever

No matter at all.

The Lord is my shepherd, no want shall I know.

Psalm 23 on repeat, in times of sickness, fear, worship walks and with babies, the lullaby of my life.

31 days of good things

Angels, Children, Faith, family, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

Day 30 – Walking With the Baby

The Monday morning fog grew thicker once the sun came up. The baby laid down for his morning nap and was sweet like an angel.

So, we shifted the routine.

We walked close to 11.

The breeze was pleasant.

The light through the trees was not at all blinding, only inviting.

Artist me, blogger and wanna be memoirist cherishes a bumpy walk with a baby boy making baby sounds and the absolute simplicity of God being close.

Close to me on a morning walk.

Morning Walk

Also, a yellow butterfly hovered over us.

Baby Henry looked up in a curious search.

I’m not sure who’s spirit it was.

But, I’m leaning towards my mama.

31 days of good things

Children, contentment, courage, Peace, Redemption, Vulnerability, wisdom, wonder

Day 28 – Friendship

“You sit here, Grandma, while I play.” Elizabeth

The little park at the County library and just the two of us and then a family arrives.

We guessed the little girl’s age, five I decided and she thought four.

They connected at a distance and then the one grew closer to the other.

One announced, after telling her parents,

“I’m gonna make a new friend.”

And even though Elizabeth said “I’ll just play with you, Grandma.”

Within moments names were exchanged in a seesaw game of tag and follow each other.

Then they drifted back to the ones they’d known longer, her to her parents and Elizabeth to me.

And I sat in the spot she said was just right for me, the wide bottom of the cool silver slide.

And I remembered my friend saying about she and I, “Oh, we hit it off immediately.” to someone who asked about our relationship.

There’s something about the bravery of befriending a stranger.

Becoming the friend neither of you expected.

Vulnerably deciding, here’s someone I can give my story to and know it’ll be safe.

And someone who can share with me her own collection of sorrow and joy.

Of laughter, of likeminded observations of others.

All because we decided it would be okay to strike up a conversation and let it grow.

Like strangers on a playground, one four year old and one five, who decided we can play together, I can tell you my name and you can do the same.

31 days of good things

Children, contentment, Faith, grandchildren, hope, memoir, Peace, Stillness, Vulnerability, walking

Day 23 – Beauty By Surprise

In a time when objects catch your eye, welcoming at times and at others, a shockingly unwelcome stealing your gaze, it is good to be captivated by surprise.

The light landing on places, causing leaves to glisten, overgrown weeds or wildflowers to shine.

I thought to write about the goodness of dark chocolate with almonds since my “good” yesterday was a little heavy,

But, today with a baby boy in a stroller, I’ll stick with “beauty by surprise”.

Beauty you can’t stop looking for, beauty you know intersected your day because God saw your secrets, knew you needed to see something beautiful and untainted by humanity.

Baby Henry kicking his little feet and learning early, Grandma stops often, pauses on our walks and stands still with her eyes closed or sometimes just looks long at the sky.

And then, she walks.

A peaceful walk, a beautiful way.

31 days of good

Abuse Survivor, aging, anxiety, bravery, Children, courage, Faith, hope, memoir, Peace, Redemption, Stillness, Vulnerability, wonder

Day 16 – Hard Things (to me)

I wrote in my journal, “Ask for help.”

“Do hard things.” a long time ago.

What feels hard to you?

Hard to acknowledge, a secret reluctance for you?

It’s hard for me to drive in the dark, mostly the early morning darkness on back roads.

There’s no reason other than me deciding this is hard.

The congested four lane before the interstate, the winding two lane road to the country

Me, traveling out to the wide open space and all the others “goin’ to town” for work.

The headlights that approach, the obnoxious ones, I decide don’t care enough about me to change to dim.

It makes no sense to feel sort of stalked, sort of threatened, sort of unable to be sure of being safe; headlights coming in a way that feels like force always scares me, tells me I’m in danger.

The place that marks the “almost there” this morning beckoned me to glance forward.

A fence with overgrown weeds as borders made the perfect shape of a cross in one section.

My headlights landed there.

I’d never noticed before.

Morning Came

The grey blue sky showing no sign of morning until it suddenly, surprisingly did.

And there I was, safely cradling a baby safely as we stood steady on the porch with lingering love you’s to sister and mama.

And I thought, how sweetly I’ve been guided all my life.

I can do hard things.

I can ask my God for help.

31 days of good things

Children, contentment, family, Motherhood, Redemption, rest, Stillness, Trust, Vulnerability, wisdom

Day 14 – Pasta With My Son

Lunch was at a favorite spot of my son’s. There are many fabulous restaurants in Charlotte.

I thought to have the broiled chicken club salad and told him to order, I needed to go the restroom,

His pause said, “Really, a salad?” so I asked what he’d recommend.

And I chose his recommendation, penne with spicy tomato vodka sauce.

He had lasagna. I had a glass of Cabernet and he chose Pinot Noir.

He insisted I have coffee when I mentioned the carbohydrate “coma” and so I did and we split a slice of cheesecake topped with peaches.

Mama Ricotta’s…go there.

Mama Ricotta’s

Goodness it’s good.

Thanks, son.

31 days of good

Children, contentment, daughters, Faith, family, hope, kindness, Peace, Vulnerability, wonder

Day 2 – gifts

I hurried out to give my daughter her daughter’s forgotten water bottle.

“She wants to tell you something”, my daughter said.

And with a bit of timid and hopeful whisper of surprising me, she said

“I gave you something, a gumball and a frog.”

On the hood of my car in the mist of Monday morning, smack dab in the center, a tiny green frog for her baby brother and for me, a seed pod from a tree, “gumballs” we call them.

Gifts.

I brought them inside, laid them on the counter, gifts for keeping.

I have been given an abundance of many such treasures.

Feathers, pebbles, sketches, smiles, kisses and walks on October mornings.

You?

Begin to Live

aging, Children, contentment, courage, Faith, family, fear, Holy Spirit, hope, memoir, patience, Peace, Prayer, Redemption, Salvation, Stillness, waiting, wisdom, wonder
God is Near

Mingled in a dream that included family at the beach as well as unfamiliar children asking to play on a trampoline, I am recalling “Psalm 90”.

The Spirit of God interspersed just that in a dream that included my mama being a given a healing prognosis, “Now, you’ll have a chance to really live!”

Maybe it was the beautiful and educational sermon on Sunday on heaven.

“Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Maybe it was the call from “Aunt Boo” my mama’s sister. She talked about crocheting. Maybe I tucked away the visual of her teaching my mama, the memory of their back and to sister chatter.

Who knows? Around 3, I woke and tossed and then recited mentally, over and over, Psalm 23.

Imperfectly still, after all these years of using this chapter to calm me. For some reason, portions and not the entire Psalm linger longer than others and I drift off to sleep.

Note the commentary

All my days have been a meandering sort of trail. A pause to consider, I’ve been in the darkness, I’ve lived in the dread, I’ve found myself off course because of conflict or circumstance.

David knew. He did too.

And so, his words aren’t ones of a perfect follower. Instead, a perfect “returner” to the place where he and God dwell together safely.

I used to believe “all the days of my life” meant the actual dwelling place of Jesus…heaven.

Again, instead…David is acknowledging and giving us permission to acknowledge the beauty we can claim as our own here…

As long as my lungs are providing me with breath and my heart is beating…I am dwelling with God, and He with me.

We are together.

I am known. I am seen.

I am invited to keep returning to rest.

Why Psalm 90 mixed in with a captivating dream of life getting another chance for my mama?

Psalm 90 is one penned by Moses.

It opens with this.

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭1‬ ‭ESV‬‬

There were other people in the big bright room with my mama, not just my brothers and sister. My children were there too.

Psalm 90 closes with an acknowledgement of what had not and has not been without affliction. Moses offers us his prayer back then as a promise and prayer we can choose today.

“Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us; yes, establish the work of our hands!”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭90‬:‭15‬-‭17‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“Favor” here meaning “beauty”.

Return to beauty today.

Embrace grace. More than you expected, the grace you’ve been shown.

The grace that you know.

Continue and believe.

Dwell in peace.

“Now you can begin to live”, the words promised to my mama in my dream.

And to us all.

Begin.

Begin again.