A Late Thanksgiving

We give thanks.

For lazy weekends, warm homes, board games, friends, unicorns, and You, O Lord.

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Everything we have comes from you

And You know how to give good gifts.

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We do not, will not, forget.

We’ll only thank the Giver of all

For His generous hand…

His generous heart…

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And His generous love.

I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart;
I will tell of all your wonderful deeds.

Psalm 9:1

“I Need Hold You Hand.”

It’s funny how life, perspective, everything, can change in an instant.  Never more so than in those “life flashes before you” moments.  I wouldn’t have known.   I’d never really had any of those moments…until yesterday.

Those moments hide in days like any other- days that start out innocuous and humdrum;  days in which you ruminate on Scriptures like Psalm 90:12, “Teach us how short our lives really are so that we may be wise,” because you’ve found it in several different readings that day and you think, Yeah God, that sounds good.  Teach me–  not knowing what you’re asking for;  days like yesterday.

A simple trip to the park, that’s all it was.   A warm afternoon, a best bud, and 8 kids between us.  We’re like a well-oiled machine.  Over the past 5 years our kids have basically grown up together, as have we.  We can let ourselves into each others houses, and not clean beforehand.  That’s saying something.  Playdates consist of our kids tearing off their shoes at the door and disappearing until their tummies start rumbling, while we plop ourselves down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a couple doughnuts that hide under paper napkins any time a wayward child dashes by.  And each spring we make an inaugural trip to the park with kids a little bit taller and a little bit older and we marvel at the fact that just moments ago, it seems, we were pushing babies in swings and catching toddlers at the end of slides, as now we watch those same children whiz around the playground playing tag for hours while introducing new babies and freshly-sprouted toddlers to the swings and slides.

The boys are older and the Strawberry Shortcake- now a full-blown toddler at nearly 3 years old- has a mind of her own.  And I was on auto-pilot.  When nature finally called and we needed to head home to indoor plumbing,  the 5 older ones ran to the vans parked in angles on the road in front of the park and the Shortcake followed.  The moms brought up the rear with a baby and a straggler.  The older ones stopped at the open van doors because that’s what older ones do…but she didn’t.  I assumed she would.  She does whatever they’re doing- a little pint-sized wannabe.  But she didn’t.

When they say that these moments go by in slow motion, they’re right.  I saw her keep going.  From too many yards away.  And a box truck.  That wasn’t slowing down.  And a blind spot to the left where more cars could speed through.  And I screamed.  Over and over and over again, “NO!”  And I ran.  And the truck kept going.  And she kept walking.  Truck.  Her.  Truck.  Her.  Any moment I expected her to go flying.  I could see it in my mind as I ran, and screamed.  Seconds that felt like a lifetime.

I bolted between the 2 parked vans.  I didn’t stop.  I didn’t look both ways.  I just ran.  I ran until I reached her.  And I pulled her to safety.  Pulled her away from the box truck that had thankfully and finally slowed.  Away from the cars in the other direction.  I pulled her to the side of the van and swatted her bottom and spoke to her more sternly than I ever had in the past.  She cried and I, shaking, held it together.  She had to know.  She had to know how bad and dangerous that was…but she couldn’t know- couldn’t know that she was this close.  But I did.

We two moms plunked the kids in their seats and strapped everyone in.  Then we turned around, hugged, and shook, and fought back tears.  My stomach hurt and my throat throbbed from screaming.  But she was safe.

I turned to go.  And as I opened the van door I heard Him so clearly…

That’s how I feel about my kids.

I gasped.  I wasn’t expecting, wasn’t listening for Him, but I felt it clear as day in my spirit.  He continued…

That’s how I feel when my kids are running out into the road marked with danger.  That’s how I feel when they run toward the things that will hurt them, maim them, even kill them.  But I’m not talking about just physical death.   I’m talking about the kind that separates them from me…forever.  I run and I scream and my stomach hurts and my heart aches like it’s being ripped in two and sometimes I get there in time…and sometimes I can’t.  Because that’s what free will is.  And I feel that, like you just did, every moment of every day because I’ve got billions of kids.  And at any moment billions of them are running toward the road.  And billions of box trucks are speeding their way.  And I can see them coming, from a million miles away.  And all I want to do is grab my kids and hold them and kiss them in the safety of my arms.  But sometimes they keep going…

And I could see Him, my heavenly Father, weeping over His beloved kids.  And my heart broke.  How could anyone live that way?  With that much pain and anguish?  Only love could.

I gave the Shortcake a long lecture in spurts over the course of the next hour.  Later, when I asked her what she had done wrong she said,

“I need hold you hand.”

I started to correct her but stopped.  The road really isn’t the problem.  There are always going to be roads in our lives, and not all of them are going to be safe.  We can’t necessarily get rid of the roads… but we can hold our parent’s hand.

That hand keeps us out of trouble.  Oh, we may try to break away sometimes, try to step our toes off the curb and into the busy street, but that hand pulls us back.  There’s safety in holding His hand.  That doesn’t mean the road doesn’t have potholes, sharp inclines, or steep cliffs- most roads do.  But we’ve got a Daddy willing to walk the road with us and hold tightly to our hand, and not let go…

Psalm 73:23-26

23 Yet I am always with you;
 you hold me by my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will take me into glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.

Psalm 139:1-10

1 You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you, LORD, know it completely.
5 You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

 7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
   your right hand will hold me fast.

Snowflake Moment

Strawberry Shortcake came and visited me in the shower this morning- her little red head poking through the white curtain and giving me a cheesy grin.  She pointed to the bath toy stragglers lying in the bottom of the tub as one by one I handed them to her.  An army guy.  A great white shark.  3 more army guys.  I loaded them up in the Super Size Burger King cup perfect for water-dumping, and smiled at her.  By now, hundreds of tiny water droplets had collected on her wispy hair. 

My little baby angel with her crown of water diamonds. 

I cupped her small face in my hands and pressed my lips to her squishy cheeks, knowing full well that in minutes those bath toys would be strewn about the house (and indeed they were) and that soon I’d be rushing around with all the day’s chores.  And I thought to myself,

I’ll never have this moment again.

This moment.  This little heavenly moment. 

Sure enough, it came and went as off she trotted out of the bathroom and onto the more important business of house-destroying.  Gone like this February snow. 

How many of these moments do I take for granted?  Piling them up like snowbanks, cursing some and wishing away others as they collect in the recesses of my memory and melt quietly away. 

 Today I savored this moment.  Tomorrow I may get caught up in the mess it left behind and the next day I may wish for a ‘bigger’ life, a life that doesn’t revolve around child-building (as if there were any bigger life than that).  But today, I take this moment and say to my God, “Thank you.”  And my heart is full.

“We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand…and melting like a snowflake.  Let us use it before it is too late.”       -Marie Edith Beynon