May 8, 2012

I have ignored my blog for so many months.An abundance of life ,and not enough time to write about it. Amazing photos, and celebrations big and small not shared with all of you, but I want to share this… so we will try to give “blogging” a go again, and I will pray for time enough to do so!


Good Gifts,  and Words of Poison….

I just heard it, out of the mouth of my four year old wonder boy… the one I adore more than any earthly treasure, the one I spent countless nights holding and nursing and singing to sleep, the one who’s eyes light up my heart and who knows his words of love bring my heart soaring in thanks to God…. “I HATE YOU!”   Poison to this mommy’s heart, I feel sick to my stomach, a little lost in this new wound.

I know he didn’t mean it. I doubt he fully understands what he said. But that utterance , it cut and it lingers. Words are so important. At four we do not know how to choose them wisely, many times at the cusp of thirty I am guilty of the same. Ouch, the wound deepens. Unjustified words spilling forth in  frustration, they pour out a kind of poison that quiets the rush of joy into any given day.

In hindsight I had overwhelmed him. We were painting. I had laid out before him a big blank canvas, and lots of paint, and stickers, and stamps, and markers. A little boys dream… or so I thought. But too many choices, too many options… he shrunk back, and out of fear he wanted my guidance. I was right there with him, but he couldn’t feel me hovering. I didn’t respond to his every word. I was trying to get work done.  I trusted him, a few minutes alone for him, an opportunity for him to make his own decisions, pick his palette… begin a brush stroke on that paper. But he did not, he felt abandoned. He was hurt and mad and disappointed.  So like a four year old, like a sinful man,  the words started bubbling up in his heart.

To add to his frustration his eyes were fixed on a different prize. He didn’t want the paint, the markers, the stamps, the paper…. A million good gifts laid out before him, and his eyes were on the umbrella. An object of desire that was not meant for him, not good for him in the situation he was in… but he didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t understand. He thought I was holding back from him some beautiful treasure, that I did not have his best in mind…. My four year old, deceived like our very first ancestors in the garden. “I HATE YOU!” He bites into the poison, and this mother’s heart breaks.

How often am I the one who holds that apple. How often is my attention given to the temptation of some seemingly harmless poison while I ignore the thousand beautiful gifts God has cultivated before me. How often, whether in word or deed does my heart pour forth that same ugliness of a foolish sinful child, breaking my Father’s heart. I don’t dare try to find that answer.

Guilt falls like tiny flakes of dust from a forgotten corner of the house. But grace, a mighty wind of grace fills this room before that dust can find a home to settle into. I look at the beautiful little eyes in front of me. I am in love with this boy, this creation God formed of John and I. My heart fresh with the wound of his words, but one look… one true utter of apology from those little lips. I wait. Tears fill his eyes as I explain how badly he hurt my heart.  Tears fill my eyes as my spirit is flooded with the remembrance that I too have caused this pain to the heart or my own mother, and more so my Creator.  “ I love you mommy!” Another kind of tears push out the ones of hurt…. love and forgiveness close that wound like the thread of a good suture.  Confession, repentance, forgiveness…. Love, love covers a multitude of sins. I look into those amazing little eyes, and I catch a glimpse of my reflection,  and I wonder… if I who am evil know how to give good gifts to my children; how much more will our Father in Heaven give good gifts to those of us who ask Him!

We clean up the paint for now. An opportunity missed, but it is time for another adventure.

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