Life is hard. Challenges come, and go...... but then come right back again clothed in different colors. When life seems as bleak as the late November sky, heart knocks against chest and I wonder.....
As seasons have come and gone, prayers have changed from those of relief to that of acceptance. In the acceptance of what is offered there is hope. I pray for the best, hope for the best, but embrace whatever comes. There is something in those dark days for us to learn.
This becomes obvious to me as my little man sits filled with sadness curled up in a corner. Life is this moment for him. He does not see past the present. This is all that exsists in his world right now. This shortness of sight, what we cannot see is that this, all of it, is part of our path. It is not the beginning, nor is it the end. It is not a detour, as we attempt to get back on the right road. This is our road, all of it making up the miles we travel.
The path closes in around us. It is dense and thick, but what we cannot see is that just around the corner, the trees begin to thin and the sky opens up. Here - we have made it and now can see past the stumbling blocks that once stood in our way, out across wide sky.
How did I not see it before. Maybe I was not ready. Lessons needed learning so that once I got to the top they would no longer be the focus of my attention. I view again those things I thought were holding me back, those stumbling blocks which tripped me up and brought me to my knees. And I am grateful - for all the ugly, which when wound together with skillful hands with all the beautiful become just that - beautiful - through eyes of the heart. The view never changed. It was I who could not see what was waiting for me at the top. Of each new mountain I am asked to climb, I have the hope of a vista bathed in grace awaiting me at the end.
Children grow and I begin to understand. I have an immeasurable role here as mother. It is to love, most of all, and to teach, and train, and never give up on sweet souls. But it is not to change hearts. That role has been filled, long before, by hands much more capable than mine. How often do I try and fix it all? How much more often should I turn troubled children back to the Lord. My heart hurts for the aches of these little people, these pieces of my very soul. I want to sweep them up in my arms, and kick all trial out the back door. I try to fit pieces back together. In frustration, when I cannot seem to find the answers, my heart is hushed and I am told that they are old enough now. Never stop praying for their sake, but don't pray for answers that belong to them to find. What could be more important? Of all the things I teach, from nouns to fractions, this is the most valuable lesson of all. Teach them to come to Him. Teach them to listen. Teach them that only He can fix broken hearts and just how much He wants to do so. Teach them that they have endless potential, and through the grace of only Him, it can be reached. Trials cement character deep in young foundation.
A weight lifts from sagging shoulders. Turn them back to Him. He knows the way when one mom cannot see past crumbs and chaos. These are the wings we are to give our fledglings which will enable them to soar. On the updraft of one who will never tire or lead astray, at moments when one mom's flesh is weak, He will lead them on.
