At the core of her being, she has a deep longing to nurture, bring comfort, and to fix things; things like broken toys, knees, and hearts. That's why she supposes, she feels distraught when at three in the morning she is still trying to settle a baby that- WILL NOT SLEEP! It becomes clear, it is simply beyond her control, but she continues to feel a failure when her baby is grouchy and not sleeping.
And so, at six o'clock, when she stumbles into the kitchen to figure out what husband and school children are going to eat for their lunches, the feeling of failure multiplies rapidly, upon the discovery and because of poor planning, that the pickings are slim. She settles for boiling eggs and opening a can of tuna, both of which the family are not crazy about. She will make them egg/tuna sandwiches. The sandwiches will smell unpleasant at lunch time, because that particular sandwich is noted for this, but this is all there is. She'll try not to feel guilty about such trivial matters.
After sending, everyone who is going, out the door, she sits down to have the morning cup of whatever it is she enjoys. Likely, she will reach for some source of outside news. A magazine, a Bible, or the news on her smart phone, the channels of the outside world are endless.
Functioning on minimum sleep, the news of the day isn't comforting. At all. More is being reported about activity of the latest terrorists groups. There is another state added to the list of those who now allow gay marriages. There are two more lawsuits over religious rights, more about abortion, and a little update on Christians being persecuted.
As she drags herself through the morning, caring for the baby, doing the laundry, and making meals for the family, it all feels a little pointless; the fears of reality and the things that hit the headlines, grips her heart with icy, cold hands. She feels her soul turn blue with despair.
She wonders, Why did I bring these precious babies into this horrible world anyway? How will they have a flying chance to be overcomers in such a cruel, cruel world? How will they even begin to make an impact in such a crazy place?
In the afternoon, she bundles the baby in a knitted sweater and hat set. They step out into the crisp, fall air. She breathes in and out slowly. For the first time today, she notices the reds of the maple trees against the turquoise sky. They settle side by side on an, old quilt under the red maple, baby gurgles contentedly, cheeks, healthy pink, and shiny, big eyes peeping out under his beanie.
Looking up through the leaves of the maple to the sky, happiness begins to bubble up in her heart. The autumn sun slowly brings a balm to her raw emotions. She begins to notice things, the V of geese flying overhead, and the smell of ripening apples a few trees away. A burst of yellow flutters to the ground nearby, another fall leaf. She idly picks it up to examine it closely. It can't be from the red maple she is lying under, because- well, because red maples don't drop yellow leaves. Do they?
She sits up and looks around for a yellow maple, but can't see one. Just a small detail, but it means the world to her in this moment. She actually prefers the colors of the red maple; if this one yellow leaf had not landed on the carpet of red, already fallen leaves, she might never had noticed it at all. It reminds her of the fears and burdens of her morning. Looking and noticing all the red/ bad in the world, isn't fair to that one piece of yellow/good.
God, and His son Jesus, she remembers that gift of eternal, everlasting peace. Promises hidden in the Word, flit through her mind, one yellow bit at a time. Peace, I leave with you... Lo, I am with you always... Under the shadow of the Almighty... I will lead you in unfamiliar places... I will guide you with My eye... The trees of the field clap their hands...
The world is right again as she heads back inside with precious baby. Thankfulness for her life and being able to live life richly return. So, the world is not such a nice place, but God's world is gorgeous and joy and peace.
In her mind, she hears from her childhood, her aunt singing a song, "This world is not my home; I'm just a passin' through." She can hear the cadence and tone, the throaty slur, just as she remembers her aunt sounding, as she pins one yellow and one red leaf on her refrigerator door, her own private memorial to noticing God's goodness in a crazy mixed up world.
Every Fall, I remember this phase of life, poignantly. This may even be a memory from the past... I don't know where it came from, really. I just know, I hold my friends and sisters in my heart every fall, because of the memories... Remember to notice the gold...
And so, at six o'clock, when she stumbles into the kitchen to figure out what husband and school children are going to eat for their lunches, the feeling of failure multiplies rapidly, upon the discovery and because of poor planning, that the pickings are slim. She settles for boiling eggs and opening a can of tuna, both of which the family are not crazy about. She will make them egg/tuna sandwiches. The sandwiches will smell unpleasant at lunch time, because that particular sandwich is noted for this, but this is all there is. She'll try not to feel guilty about such trivial matters.
After sending, everyone who is going, out the door, she sits down to have the morning cup of whatever it is she enjoys. Likely, she will reach for some source of outside news. A magazine, a Bible, or the news on her smart phone, the channels of the outside world are endless.
Functioning on minimum sleep, the news of the day isn't comforting. At all. More is being reported about activity of the latest terrorists groups. There is another state added to the list of those who now allow gay marriages. There are two more lawsuits over religious rights, more about abortion, and a little update on Christians being persecuted.
As she drags herself through the morning, caring for the baby, doing the laundry, and making meals for the family, it all feels a little pointless; the fears of reality and the things that hit the headlines, grips her heart with icy, cold hands. She feels her soul turn blue with despair.
She wonders, Why did I bring these precious babies into this horrible world anyway? How will they have a flying chance to be overcomers in such a cruel, cruel world? How will they even begin to make an impact in such a crazy place?
In the afternoon, she bundles the baby in a knitted sweater and hat set. They step out into the crisp, fall air. She breathes in and out slowly. For the first time today, she notices the reds of the maple trees against the turquoise sky. They settle side by side on an, old quilt under the red maple, baby gurgles contentedly, cheeks, healthy pink, and shiny, big eyes peeping out under his beanie.
Looking up through the leaves of the maple to the sky, happiness begins to bubble up in her heart. The autumn sun slowly brings a balm to her raw emotions. She begins to notice things, the V of geese flying overhead, and the smell of ripening apples a few trees away. A burst of yellow flutters to the ground nearby, another fall leaf. She idly picks it up to examine it closely. It can't be from the red maple she is lying under, because- well, because red maples don't drop yellow leaves. Do they?
She sits up and looks around for a yellow maple, but can't see one. Just a small detail, but it means the world to her in this moment. She actually prefers the colors of the red maple; if this one yellow leaf had not landed on the carpet of red, already fallen leaves, she might never had noticed it at all. It reminds her of the fears and burdens of her morning. Looking and noticing all the red/ bad in the world, isn't fair to that one piece of yellow/good.
God, and His son Jesus, she remembers that gift of eternal, everlasting peace. Promises hidden in the Word, flit through her mind, one yellow bit at a time. Peace, I leave with you... Lo, I am with you always... Under the shadow of the Almighty... I will lead you in unfamiliar places... I will guide you with My eye... The trees of the field clap their hands...
The world is right again as she heads back inside with precious baby. Thankfulness for her life and being able to live life richly return. So, the world is not such a nice place, but God's world is gorgeous and joy and peace.
In her mind, she hears from her childhood, her aunt singing a song, "This world is not my home; I'm just a passin' through." She can hear the cadence and tone, the throaty slur, just as she remembers her aunt sounding, as she pins one yellow and one red leaf on her refrigerator door, her own private memorial to noticing God's goodness in a crazy mixed up world.
Every Fall, I remember this phase of life, poignantly. This may even be a memory from the past... I don't know where it came from, really. I just know, I hold my friends and sisters in my heart every fall, because of the memories... Remember to notice the gold...
Ah! bittersweet real.
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