Navigation Menu+


Posted on Jan 17, 2018 by in Faith, Family | 0 comments

Everyone is dry.

I smear colorless, scent-less Aquaphor under Susanna’s nose, above and below my own lips, on the bumpy red splotches of Isaac’s eczema behind his knees.

Lotion, chap stick, hand cream, coconut oil… the same heat that makes our homes cozy dries out our fragile bodies.

Spiritually, I feel dry, too.  Two Sundays of illness without the benefit of listening to the preached Word. Famished and parched.

I find scraps during nap time:

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father fees them. Are you not of more value than they?”

Value, value.  He wants me to know my value so deeply that I don’t doubt He will take care of me.

But I always undervalue myself.  I’m working on that.  Who leaves valuables unattended? Not God. I’m a valuable to Him.

Susanna leans into me and lays her head on my shoulder.

“Mommy, I was made for hugs.”

”You were?”

“Uh huh. I always need hugs when I get up in the mornings.”

And Billy Joel’s song lyrics are in my mind, “And she never gives out, and she never gives in; she just changes her mind.”  That is Susanna.  I love her for it.  Maybe I’ll learn from her.

I was made for hugs, not anxiety.

Who of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?

I can’t add one single hour to my life, but I can relax into this hour, this moment.  I can be all here, with those whom I love the most, and give of myself to them, receiving their love for me.  This, too, can be worship.  Because in this relaxing is trust, faith. Faith in His providence, His capability.  Like sleeping in the car while Someone Else drives, I can drift into vulnerability without fear of consequences. I can let my guard down and be carefree.




Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published.