These Are the Hands: A Prayer for a Mother and Child
July 25, 2018
These are the hands of your number one fan—hands that pressed you against my heart in ecstasy as I realized you were mine
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These are the hands of your number one fan—hands that pressed you against my heart in ecstasy as I realized you were mine
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Believing love wins is hard to swallow in the face of immense suffering, both within our personal circle and across the globe. We need faith, trust, and hope in what we can’t see to help us digest the anguish. Kids seem to have these three things mastered.
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What if a perfect blend of spiritual trust and surrender is the best cocktail for getting us through our most trying, stressful, wonky times? (not that I’m throwing wine under the bus)
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My journey through the “that was then, but this is now” space in raising young adults. I have a knack of trying to do God’s job for him. So far, it hasn’t worked out.
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Whether God chose 24 hours or 4 to represent a day makes no difference. The glory is in the dawn. An opportunity to start over when the sun comes up no matter what was wreaking havoc in our world when the sun went down.
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When it comes to adulting, love is who we are, but unfortunately not all we know. The practice of “being still in God’s presence” is no longer second nature. Which means if we aren’t mindful and making a conscious effort, the reflecting of love is probably not going on as much as we think.
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Whose soul-bound idea was it to write Goodnight Moon into the script anyway? Weaving such a unique thread through an episode set out to prove the human collective has shared experiences across every spectrum is creative genius.
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Becoming a mom does a lot of things to our heart and soul. The love factor is beyond comprehension. Then there’s the fear factor, which exists in a league of its own.
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Our parenting record is not always indicative of the capabilities God gives us. All He asks is that we do our best, trusting Him for the lion’s share along the way.
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