Morning Musing Over Coffee - The Habit of Prayer



credit: Michelle Meiklejohn

I'm not a worrier about most things. Life has taught me that usually things turn out better than I expected. And even when things aren't so good I, with God's help, can get through it.

But when it comes to my children, whether biological, adopted, or foster, the worry eats at me.

What if the MRIs and ultrasounds show something abnormal? What if the medications cause more harm than good? Am I making the right decision to allow my child to be taking this particular medication? What if those who are in charge of another child's education don't care and hurt more than they help? How do I make it better here at home? Am I listening and empathizing enough or am too distracted? Am I pushing too much or not enough?

The questions go on and on and I toss and turn.

And then I feel a gentle tap on my mental shoulder.

"I made these children" He reminds me. "You love them so much, but I love them even more than you will ever be able to."

So I take these problems to Him. I give them to Him to take care of. I take a break from worrying. For a whole ten minutes. And then I take them back. And the cycle starts over again.

But I'm slowly learning and the ten minutes are turning into fifteen, and twenty, and sometimes I even make it a whole hour.

I need to be concerned for my children, but that concern should lead me to prayer instead of worry. Then, with His guidance, I simply need to take the steps before me, trusting His leading and knowing that His love surrounds us every step of the way.

So day by day, faltering step by faltering step, I am taking this journey to developing a habit of prayer. Not simply praying before meals, and when I go to bed and in church, but hour by hour, minute by minute, living in prayer, surrounded by a love much greater than I can ever imagine.

~ Linking Here ~

Sustaining Faith

Faith.

It's a word I cling too. And yet so much more than a word, it's a lifeline I hold on to desperately. 

So much pain and uncertainty surrounds me, that when I look around I find myself faltering. In the last week, a life changing diagnosis for a new friend, a flare up of illness in a small innocent child, another friend stalked and harrassed. A family hurting and reaching for help, needing strength and healing.

Part of me wants to try to fix it all, part of me wants to run. I know I can do neither.

Faith.

Faith in the God who loves, who heals, who transcends time and hurt and disease. Faith in the God who has already seen the end of the story and has already claimed the victory. Faith that makes no human sense, and yet sustains.

Faith that falters, that is no bigger than a mustard seed, but still there, sprouting, growing, tended carefully by the Giver of all things good. The faith that holds on to me when I cannot hold onto it.

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1

Hope That Springs Eternal

Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost. Romans 15:13

It can be difficult, when we look around at everything that is going on around us to feel much hope. From the economy to natural disasters to personal difficulties, there is so much that can steal our hope if we allow it.

Yet, as Christians, we are given something that others struggle to find.

Hope.

The God of hope - I love that. The God of hope fills us with all joy and peace. And He doesn't just give us a little hope, a taste of hope. No, we have abounding hope. We know that the God who loves us is in control and that He will lift and sustain us.

To me abounding hope brings a mental image of hope piled high and running over. A hope that cannot be contained but spills out and around to those nearby.

And how to we have this hope? We have it through the power of the Holy Spirit. This is not just a drummed up good feeling. This is hope given to us by God Himself through the Holy Spirit.

This is hope I can hold on to, hope I can live and breathe and move in. Hope that sustains and gives life.

This is the hope that springs eternal.

Morning Musing Over Coffee - Thoughts on Humility

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Over at Ann Voskamp's blog A Holy Experience the topic today and for the next three Wednesdays is The Practice of Humility.

I wasn't too sure I had anything to say on this topic. I've been thinking about humility all week and still nothing that I wanted to write about. Humility tends to have some very negative connotations for me, along the lines of allowing others to run roughshod over me as I passively accept it.

Until late last night.

Some nights my four year old has a very hard time sleeping. He tosses and turns and cries out. He checks to make sure I'm there with him but then cannot seem to allow himself to be comforted.  Last night started out as one of those nights. Then, just as I was deciding it was going to be a very long night he did something a little different. He reached out and grabbed my hand and held onto it. And fell peacefully asleep.

And then it hit me.

What a sweet example of humility. Simply saying "I need you. Will you hold my hand awhile?"

We all want to be needed. And it we're honest (and not too proud) we all know there are times when we need someone else to simply hold our hand awhile. We're all in this life together. And when we offer a hand and are willing to reach for and accept a hand to hold onto, we are practicing humility in all it's beauty.

~ Linking Here~

Walk With Him Wednesday
The Wednesday Window

Letting Go and Being Available

Today I am letting go of any plans that I had for the day and going with the flow. Because sometimes that's the only way.

Some nights in a houseful of kids just are not restful and last night was one of those nights. After a good hour of read aloud time - me reading aloud to Austin and Amanda - we tried to settle down. But Austin was restless. And when Austin in restless he taps things, and makes clicking noises with his mouth. And Amanda could not tune it out. Which was easily enough solved by me asking Austin if he would mind closing his bedroom door. He didn't mind and that should have been the end of that. Except now Amanda, who had been on the brink of sleep, was wide awake and furious. After talking awhile and then sending her on back to bed when it became clear that talking was going to do no good, she finally cried herself to sleep. By this time it was nearly 1AM. At last, I get to sleep. I'm sleeping soundly when the three and four year old both wake up at 2:30AM. Three potty trips, several blanket fixings, and one Bible story/song CD later they finally went back to sleep. It's now somewhere around 3:30AM. My first daycare kids come in sometime between 6:00 and 6:30AM.  They doze and I doze but everyone is up to stay by 7:15. Whether I am ready or not it is time to begin the day.

Yesterday I wrote about what being a homemaker means to me. I had no idea I would be recalling those words so strongly today. But it's true, sometimes being a homemaker means more than the day to day chores of making a home. Sometimes being a maker of home means simply letting go of all the plans and ideas that I have about what I should be doing today (or resting up to do tomorrow) and simply being there for my kids. Home is not simply a place to live but a refuge, a place where it is safe to have needs, to have weaknesses and to know that someone will be there for you regardless.

So for today, I am letting go of plans and shoulds and need-tos. And I am simply being available for my family and those within my home. And if a quiet moment comes, I will not rush to "catch up" but instead will give myself some time to rest and refuel.

Link

In This Moment

I call it "my time." I talk about how I use "my time", or how I waste "my time." I write about how I schedule "my time." 

And yet, in moments of being still, I realize with startling clarity, the arrogance of those words "my time." For in those moments I feel the Presence of One who transcends all time. The One who moves through time and yet for Whom there is no time. 

He pauses near me, or is it I who pause, and in the being still am able to recognize His Presence. And time stands still. 

For in Him time becomes irrelevant.

In it's place comes clarity.

And I begin to see what really matters.

Not the hands on the clock, the numbers on the screens.

But the touch of hand,  the caress of the breeze, the ray of light through the trees.

The moments.

The now.

The rocking of the crying baby, kissing of the bruised knees, listening to stories and dreams,

sharing a moment.

Let time move on without me.

I choose to be here now.

In this moment.

And He is here with me.