Tangled Locks

One of the lovely things about Dusty is her long hair. When groomed, the long black curls look very attractive.

Unfortunately, though, she is one of those rare dogs which hates to be brushed. She moves off as quickly as she can when the brush comes out. So I don’t do it very often, and by the time I do, the dreadlocks have formed behind her ears, clumped into matted twists of hair pressed hard to her skin. They form in other places, too, and are equally challenging to deal with.

Eventually, I will take her to the groomers, though that in itself is a huge challenge because she becomes so agitated she needs sedating, and even then is not easy. Once or twice they’ve shaved the knots off while she was knocked out by the vet for other reasons. 

Sometimes that which is most attractive in us can turn ugly. Power – when used for good, it can be so beautiful, but how often it gets hold of the powerful and corrupts them completely. Wealth – money can be such a blessing to others when it is used generously by those who have plenty of it, but how often it gets hold of the rich and makes them mean and greedy.

Blessings from God are to be sought, but so, too, is wisdom from him as to how to use those blessings, be they temporal or spiritual. 

Help me, Lord, not to let your blessings become a tangled dreadlock pressing hard on my heart. May your blessings to me today flow through me and out into this world in which I live.

Mothering

Commercialism makes our world go round, but none of us mothers were ever in it for the cards.

Or the flowers. Or the delicious meals cooked for us. Or yummy cakes baked for us.

Not that we haven’t enjoyed all of the above, and been blessed by such sincere shows of gratitude.

Children – yes, even when they are a challenge – fill a mother’s heart with joy every single day. Those eager eyes; the heads thrown back, abandoned to spontaneous laughter and fun; the tired heads slumped forward onto my chest; the daily joys of discovering new surprises in this amazing world we inhabit. The tiny hand slipped into mine. The cuddles on the couch. 

And that’s just when they are little.

Now, when my children are old enough to have children of their own, my pleasures in them are different. Joy, again, as I see each developing along his/her own individual pathway. Each blossoming and bearing fruit in gifting and talents unique to him or her. Each giving back to the world in which he or she lives – making people laugh, helping them forgive, eat, survive, stimulating spiritual growth and demonstrating abandonment to God, interacting in Godly ways in office and at church, sharing generously with others. 

My inclination is to say how proud of them I am, which is true, but my pride is overshadowed by my gratitude to the faithful, loving heavenly Father who has enabled them all to be all that they were created to be. 

To God be the glory. My heart sings for joy to the God who loaned me four beautiful human beings to nurture and raise, and who made up for the ‘years the locust ate’ (eg, all my poor parenting efforts). Gratitude to the God who has widened the door of my home in order to accommodate wonderful Godly partners for them. 

I can’t send you a card today, my heavenly Father, nor a dinner nor flowers nor a cake. 

But what I can do is give you my heart and soul in everlasting gratitude. 

You’ve got it. I’m yours.

Picnic or Feast?

All of my life I’ve made choices which reflected a pinched vision of what was possible. Instead of trusting that the Lord would provide a feast, I’ve focused on the picnic in my hand and moved forward accordingly.

I’m obviously not talking about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches here, or roast turkey and the trimmings. 

I’ve found that my four children have delighted and challenged me in many ways through the years, and in this regard I’ve been challenged by Robbie. He doesn’t know it, of course. But on his course in the Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry, he had a choice to make last autumn. As a first year student, he had to choose a mission trip for this spring, and the possibilities were far-reaching and required varying amounts of capital investment.

He felt called to go for one of the overseas missions, which of course required a fair amount of money, which he doesn’t have. He didn’t look, though, at the picnic in his hands, but at the feast in the Lord’s hands. And he responded as he believed the Lord guided him, and signed up for that mission trip.

He has made his needs known through social networking and emails. On Tuesday he was required to pay the full amount for the trip, and on Tuesday the final gift came in which gave him the money he needs to go. Jehovah Jireh. I believe that means I am the God who provides.

And provide he did.

May my vision today not be pinched but be generous and bold, and enable me to step out in faith, not trusting in the ‘Never Never’ but trusting in the God who provides.