brings added bits into our lives that you tilt your head at and stand stock still as you observe the ugly that has invaded your life.
she stood beside me yesterday morning.
the table wiped clean from the egg and cheerios and nutella that had been consumed and he had sweetly made me a cup of joe and i sat down with my bible thinking that the little ones would be preoccupied long enough for me to get my fill.
but her spirit was hungry too.
mama, i want to write His name.
i looked up at her, her eyes so big and so very close to mine.
i want to be able to write His name.
so i stood up and grabbed the pencil i had bought just for her and a clean sheet of paper and wrote it down...
immediately, my oldest-who-must-do-everything-perfectly-the-first-time threw down the pencil and exclaimed that she couldn't do it.
i sat down next to her and offered to try again together.
and still she cried.
she couldn't make her letters look like mine.
exactly like mine.
and i thought of my own struggles lately, the Words that i read that are His and the daily failing on my part to live up to the life He calls us to lead.
and my shoulders slump.
and the tears roll down.
and i want to give up.
i had gotten up from the table, present in the room but busy with dishes to give her some space when i felt her beside me again.
she had lifted the paper high for me to see...to read,
at 3:58pm i wondered if i would hear him again.
he sings loudly,
outside my patio at 4 pm sharp.
and he sings throughout the night...
elias and i tried to find him yesterday, me quiet and cautious,
elias tromping loud and shouting louder,
sing, sing, sing!!!
the winds had howled those first few weeks when we moved in. newspaper and bits of trash would make their way up and over our fence and make a temporary home in our yard but i have repeatedly forgotten to pick up the flyer that found itself stuck between the fence and the patio.
and it was here that i found lyle...
singing his heart out beneath a piece of trash.
he was made to sing. made to serenade in the evening and croon out a lullaby at night.
i love lyle,
because he has reminded me that circumstances don't dictate my response.
no, until i breathe my last, i will be fighting a war...one that pits my redeemed self against my sin-filled one and i will continually find the lines i try to trace so carefully warble and wobble on the page.
but in the end, if in shaky and imperfect letters the one word that stands out on the page of my life is His very own Name, then singing under the shade of pain and struggle is worth it.
every second of it...
because they are worth it...