the question...

Thursday, December 9, 2010

your teacher pulled me aside this past tuesday, amused concern pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"olivia had a bit of a melt down today.  she doesn't want to be an angel,  or a wise man turned princess...but she seemed excited about being a donkey. i just wanted you to know in case she talked about it at home."

you didn't, really.  other than leaning close to my face and announcing that angels were silly and you were going to be a donkey.

donkey it was.

this morning, you woke up and announced that you were going to be an angel.

oh for the thought process of a three year old.

so, we dressed you up in your finest, with silver snowflakes sprinkled on your tights.  pulled your hair back in 2, not 1, piggy tails and headed out the door.

you were about to be an angel.

instead, upon entering your classroom door, you clung to me.

you buried your face against the curve of my neck and i felt your hot breath and the way your body tensed.

and i felt frustrated.

another incident in a long morning that found me scrubbing an "accident" off of the bottom of your dress that had found itself in the path of the swirling waters of a potty.

you clung to my neck, wrapping your strong legs around my waist and hung on for dear life as they handed you your letter..."s".

i found myself being herded to the back of the line, behind the other angel...your sister.
lyla's eyes lifted and found mine,  her lips tugged into a frown.

and i found myself wondering how the morning had fallen apart so quickly.

you lifted your letter, the "s" in christmas and refused to look at the audience.

you rang your bells as you looked over my shoulder, out the window away from the crowd and kept whispering in my ear, "home, mama...wanna go home."

the small pagent carried on as proud parents tried to take pictures while elias ran in front of the little ones, feeling, i'm sure that if mama and lyla and you were all together, why shouldn't he join in?

utter chaos.

beautiful chaos.

it was in that moment, as you rang your bells and whispered "home" and clung so tightly you showed me what He has been teaching me.

do i cling so tightly to my Savior?  do i wrap my whole being as tight as i can around Him?  do i bury my face in His nearness as i continue to feebly go about the motions of life?  do i whisper my desire for Him, knowing that He knows.

at one point i glanced out the same window that you were looking out of as "we" performed and saw that you had your eyes firmly planted on our little yellow home.

and is that what He asks of us?  as we cling to Him in the midst of swirling circumstances and joy and pain and vulnerability and relationship, are we to cling with our eyes on our Home?  do we lift our eyes up beyond what can drag our hearts down and wrap our whole selves around our relationship with Him knowing, believing that this will all be worth it because one day, one day we will all be made new

today, i felt my frustration melt away to gratefulness.  you have a way of doing that, miss olivia grace.  if i allow myself to take a deep breath and watch you as you love mightily and passionately, you show me what it means to live in the gift of each moment that He gives us.

and today you showed me what it means to live fully in this moment, wrapped around Jesus with my eyes fixed on the safety of Home...

and i love you.