Incomprehensible

We should not be despondent.

In the sorrows we experience is concealed the mercy of God.
How the Lord arranges our life is incomprehensible for us.

~ St. Nikon of Optina

My Abraham Moment

I'm a parent. I'm a Christian. I'm not Abraham. Yet it seems to me that God is asking me to lay my Isaac on the altar. The thought of it is exquisitely painful. And if I didn't already know the end of the story, I don't think I'd even be able to consider it. As a mother, I would walk though fire to protect each one of my children.

With Abraham I can say "God will provide the lamb." By faith Abraham was obedient to offer his Isaac and God did provide the lamb. By faith, I need to offer up my own Isaac, even while I expectantly seek the ram in the bushes.

But I'm not Abraham and perhaps the end of my story is not the same as the end of Abraham's story. God may yet require a fiery sacrifice, not the literal sacrificial fire of Abraham's day but a trial by fire. I know how Abraham's story ends and I trust that is how my story will end---it's just the part right before the ending that I'm unsure about. 

Dutifully, yet a bit hesitantly, I purpose to release my Isaac in blind obedience and full faith. And obedience and faith are what God desires of me. God is God, whether a lamb is provided or not. My Isaac was His long before he was mine. And God loves him even more than I do.   

Here I have built my altar--here I have placed my Isaac. I release my child...to a fiery trial or to the gracious appearance of the Lamb of God.   

This is my Abraham moment.

Hot Fries at the Grocery Store

hot fries at the grocery store
toe socks at Walmart
a coin purse in the shape of a sock at the dollar store
name brand clothes at the thrift store

           everywhere I go, I see "you."

"cool!"  "coolie"
or even:  "cool beans!"
"hey, buddy"
"I know, right?"
"have a good day!  make good choices!"
(how ironic is that...)

         and I hear "you."

Sometimes when I see a little blonde head, I think I see you. Then I remember you aren't blonde any more. In fact, I don't know what color your hair is now.

The last time I saw you, your hair was black.
The last time I heard you say anything, it was "bye."
Not even "good-bye, Mom" just "bye."

And now you are gone, six hours away...six hours--and a million miles--from us...


And the ashes pile up...

I Know, My Child, I Know

A quote from John Acuff's blog:


And I think it’s something God still says to us, even today:
“I know, my son, I know. I know, my daughter, I know. That thing you wanted is not going to happen. Not the way you’ve always dreamed. I know this hurts. I know this stings. I know you feel like I am distant or not aware of where you are and who hurt you and what you think life was supposed to be like. I know in moments like this you doubt that I can count the hairs on your head or have your best in mind. But please, I am not done. I have barely started to reveal your life to you. I am the God who satisfies your desires with good things. That is me! And when it comes to your hopes and your fears and your dreams, I know, my son, I know.”

http://www.jonacuff.com/stuffchristianslike/2012/10/the-soft-x-2/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+stuffchristianslikeblog+%28Stuff+Christians+Like+-+Jon+Acuff%29

God Makes No Mistakes

There are no accidents with God,
And God makes no mistakes.
He gives in love, He takes in love,
He gives before He takes.

He gives, and we accept His gifts,
And hold them as our own,
But does our love for them forget
They are not ours alone?

Our loved ones are His choicest gifts,
To bring us comfort here,
But as our love goes out to them,
May we His name revere.

We hold them here in trust for Him,
Our will should blend with His,
And when He wants His own again,
We should accede to this.

For they are ours until He sees
Withholding them is best,
And as we bow unto His will,
Our lives in Him are blest.

His tender love could never cause
His child a needless tear,
Hereafter we shall understand
What mystifies us here.

(note: I cannot find out who wrote this poem or when it was written. I would love to credit the author if anyone can give me that information.)

Saying Goodbye...

"Love's a deep wound and what is a mother without a child and why can't I hold on to now forever and her here and me here and why does time snatch away a heart I don't think mine can beat without?...Why do we have to keep saying goodbye?"  
                                                            from One Thousand Gifts  by Ann Voskamp

Saying goodbye to little ones I've never held yet loved with everything I have; throwing rice and blowing kisses; standing alone in the dusk, shocked and speechless, as she drives away...leavetakings both fair and painful: I've never been good with goodbyes.

Saturday night at my house...

End of the road...

nothing to do...

and no hope of things getting better.

Sounds like Saturday night at my house.

~Eeyore