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Glimpses of a Child’s Heart
Words reveal my son’s heart. They take me by surprise. Not because the words are a surprise, but because such words are held. Reserved for times of need. Reserved for the unexpected.
A heart once revealed. Now, held close to the chest. Like a poker player’s hand.
I understand. I once knew that posture. Rare glimpses of true self revealed–to parents. A breaking away. Becoming self. Carefully choosing what is shown.
I long to know his heart. But, I understand. And so, I wait for the glimpses and rejoice in them.
I think: God must feel this way. He must long to know us. True selves. All of us. The deeply hidden. The unmentionable. The heart and soul.
He waits. Patiently. If I will just open my eyes. My heart. Turn toward Him. Seek Him. Listen. Breathe Him in.
A Mother’s Gift
In my growing up, certain holidays–especially Christmas and Easter–were, dare I say, stressful. Mom had grown up in a family that was big on appearances and expectations. So, preparing for the holidays felt like, well, a time to prove to my grandmother that life was perfect at our home. Cleaning, scrubbing, cooking, shopping, wrapping, bathing.
Perfection. Exhaustion.
Disappointment.
Surprisingly, the one holiday that didn’t feel that way was Mother’s Day. Given the way we handled other holidays, you would think that Mother’s Day would be one full of expectations. But, it wasn’t.
Rather, Mother’s Day was about gratitude. Rather than hold expectations about what we should do for her on Mother’s Day, Mom gave gifts to my sister and me. A small, inexpensive but thoughtful gift–accompanied by a note:
“Thank you for allowing me to be a mom.
I love you,
oxox”
She and Dad couldn’t have kids. So, we became a family by adoption.
Her gifts and notes of gratitude and love helped me see her heart. They revealed something I otherwise would have failed to see. They hinted at the pain that two little girls had extinguished. They hinted at her belief that we were God-given.
So, as I think about Mother’s Day, I remember Mom, and the lesson she taught.
Family. An answer to prayer.
Children. God-given, precious gifts–gifts God trusted me to care for.
Rejoice. Set aside expectations, preparations, and appearances, and just rejoice in the blessings.
But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
let them ever sing for joy.
Spread your protection over them,
that those who love your name may rejoice in you.
Gratitude for the Giver, not the Gift
After my mom died and as my father got older, he delighted in giving gifts to people. Little kindnesses. Small tokens.
We showed our gratitude at the giving and receiving. We delighted in Dad’s generosity. In the fact that he had thought of us. In the fact that he loved giving.
At first,
we delighted in every gift, even if it was something silly or something we didn’t need. But, after a while, these small tokens grew into large collections of things—ceramic frog collections, stuffed animal collections, too many baby dolls to care for. Things we didn’t need, nor really appreciate, because each one meant finding space for this new token in our small home.
We told Dad it wasn’t necessary, all these gifts. But, he loved the giving. And so, he gave. He gave not what we needed or wanted; rather, he gave from his heart because he wanted to give. And, we accepted the gifts because giving brought him joy.
Because we loved the giver.
On the other hand, I think how often I didn’t genuinely delight in all the receiving. How I tucked a gift in a drawer or gave it away. How I thought I wish he would have gotten the kids something they really needed instead.
But, I continued to love Dad because he was “Dad.” A man with a big, loving, giving heart. I loved him and appreciated him first, before all the giving of the gifts.
That is how I should love God. I should delight in the Giver, not in the worth or value of the gifts received. I remember a quote I read once: that gratitude should be grounded in the beauty of God, before the gift.
Gratitude grounded in the beauty of God, before the gift. That is the gratitude I should have for God. Not just gratitude for the gifts or because of the gifts. But, gratitude simply because He is.
I join the Gratitude Community, over at A Holy Experience, and delight in the beauty of God, not just His gifts.
May 3, 2010
26. For a loving God
27. For Christ
28. That the sky displays Your craftsmanship
29. For Your ever presence
30. For just being God
31. For the peace that comes from knowing, from faith in the Father
32. For all the gifts, because they are from You, the Giver of all
33. For forgiveness and second chances
34. For unconditional love
35. For all the gifts I failed to recognize or simply tucked away
36. For Your unfathomable beauty
37. For a world painted with color, when You could have painted it in black and white
38. For the ancient, sacred words You have given
The Joy of Renewal
“Share each other’s troubles and problems, and in this way obey the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2, NLT
I find joy in community. A space where I spend time with people who I trust, connect with, and who I can talk with about my faith walk–our shared and individual struggles, joys, sorrows, and hopes.
As I visit with this group of women–who I only met in January–I find community and renewal. We are a “book group.” But, when we come together, collectively, it is not about the book. The book gives us a starting place. But, it is more about a place–a community–in which we find renewal.
Our time is a short retreat–a small space in our busy weeks. We arrive mid-week, tired from our busy lives. I feel tired from the routine of the ordinary–from living on auto-pilot.
I leave–I think we all leave–with a sense of peace and renewal. Feeling like Christ was there, sitting among us, binding us all together. We pray, talk, cry, laugh. We agree, disagree, affirm, question. We sit silently. We laugh loudly. We eat. We drink. We hug.
We all are women, but we are diverse. A wide range of ages, educations, family backgrounds, interests. Single. Married. Separated. Divorced. Remarried. Twenty something. Thirty something. Forty something. Fifty something. And, none of that matters.
Christ binds us together. Christ lifts us up. Gives us this space to breathe Him in. And, despite the individual struggles or joys going on in our lives, we find renewal and hope.
I am renewed.
“Real wisdom, God’s wisdom, begins with a holy life and is characterized by getting along with others. It is gentle and reasonable, overflowing with mercy and blessings, not hot one day and cold the next, not two-faced. You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor.” — James 3:18, The Message
Joy in the Present
“We should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what’s given and delighting in the work. It’s God’s gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now.”
Last Friday I flew to Boston to visit my son. As the plane landed, rain poured down–in buckets–on the already puddled concrete. Gray, damp, windy, and cold. I took a cab to my hotel, called my son, and headed out on foot, with not-so-terrific directions, toward my son’s apartment.
I didn’t have an umbrella, just my wool gabardine coat with a hood. The rain poured down as I headed out on a just-under-a-mile walk to my son’s place. But, instead of turning left on the main street toward his apartment, I turned right. And, I had five blocks ticked off on the route before I realized I needed to turn around.
By the time I reached my son’s apartment, I was soaked. But the rain and cold–soaked through–didn’t matter. I was here with my son who I hadn’t seen in almost four months. And, I knew we only had a few days to catch up.
From his apartment, we headed out on foot toward the subway. More rain. More wind. And me, trying to figure out how to use the subway card. We had dinner at a place that serves food but is also a book store. A place my son frequents. This was his city, his life, and he was sharing it with me.
At the end of the evening, we again headed out into the rain. A small puddle about 8 inches across had formed on the floor where my coat hung over the back of a chair. The sleeves were heavy and dripped with water. But, I pulled it on, and off we went.
That evening, alone in my hotel, finally in dry, warm clothes, I smiled. The rain and wet and cold hadn’t mattered. It could have. After all, by the time I got back to my hotel, all of my clothes were soaked. And, I was cold.
But, I felt content. Grateful for the time with my son. Grateful to see he was well and happy and growing into a young adult.
God gave me joy in the present, the here and now. Unhampered by the gray and wet and cold. Undistorted by the wind. I felt grateful for the time with my son and for the capacity to enjoy it.
Too often I forget to find joy in the present. Too often I fail in my capacity to enjoy the short moments with people I care about–because I let little things distract me. I need to make the most of what God gives. To find joy in the present–whatever the present looks like.
