My Best Friend

The Comforter

Quietly I sit before Him

Quite alone.

Raw… open wounds.

 

The breeze is still,

 

The air silent.

I wait for Him to come.

 

Opening the Word

 

The leaves begin to flutter.

 

A gentle wind caresses my face.

 

There He is.

 

“And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter

(Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, and Standby),

 

that He may remain with you forever—”

 

John 14:16 (AMP)

 

There are some things in life that we will walk through alone. We may have close, faithful friends, but no one who’s been down this path before. The Holy Spirit has become my best friend, because He’s actually walking this path with me, every step. I don’t really even know His name yet. And I can’t find any more words to put in that poem, because our time together is in the secret place (Psalm 91:1) where words can’t describe— I guess that’s why it’s called the secret place. But when I enter that secret place nothing else matters anymore. I find peace, and comfort, and joy. No matter what else I must do in my day, I have to jealously guard time to open the Word and sit alone with the Comforter. Otherwise, I’m a wreck.

 

The Only Baby Carrier Approved for Adult Children

When my first child was a baby, we owned a front pack, a backpack, a sling and even an African baby carrier that doubled as a dress somehow. Our firstborn spent much of the day moving between packs as I awkwardly tried to follow (at least for this only child) the parenting philosophy that stressed the importance of carrying a baby as much as possible.  I wore a bandana to keep my hair from being mercilessly pulled out while I did the dishes with him in the backpack. I read book after book as he often napped in my arms.  And (I can’t believe I actually did this) I walked through our neighborhood on hot sunny days carrying an umbrella over him in the front pack. Looking back now, it’s rather embarrassing. But I was so in love with this baby, and each successive child also. It was a joy to carry them. By baby number four my life was such a blur I would sometimes totally forget I was carrying him. I distinctly remember one Sunday walking around the church nursery searching for my child to pick up, only to finally realize that he was already there on my hip. I really could have used a vacation.

Anyway, eventually my children grew up. I can’t carry them anymore, even emotionally. Gone are the days when I could kiss away their owies, read them a story and tuck them safely into bed in their Winnie-the-pooh sleepers. And yet, I still try to carry them. I find myself going down the list in my mind, from neediest to most secure. “Are they okay? Are they safe? Do they need me for anything? Have I prayed for them enough?” If I feel they’re all fairly stable I relax, but stability doesn’t seem to happen very often. And so… I have to make myself let go. All that carrying definitely bonded me to them—like superglue. Letting go is not that easy.

When my kids were little, carrying them was a joy—it was fulfilling and something I could do. Now, as my children are grown, they are way too heavy for me to carry in any way, and when I try to carry them it actually feels like a burden. It’s too much for me. I’m not strong enough. I just can’t do it. When I realize this, and sit down and give up trying, I can collapse into fear, or… I can ask God to help me trust Him to carry my burdens.

Psalm 68:19 (NIV) says “Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”  I think God wants us to be like children, who can skip carefree alongside their Daddy, as He carries the weight that is way too heavy for us. My mother-bear heart finds it really hard to release control of that burden to anyone else, even God. Why do I have such a hard time trusting Him? But I believe God’s Word is true. So, here goes—I’m closing my eyes and letting go.

Today I choose to trust God to carry my children. He is able and willing, and he actually really enjoys it, not only carrying my children, but watching me skip joyfully beside Him.

Father, please increase my faith to trust You more fully… because You are worthy.

 

Persisting in Prayer for Prodigals

“A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession.” Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.” Matthew 15:22, 23(NIV)

What do I do when Jesus does not answer? I keep praying. I don’t give up. I persist because I believe that Jesus is good, that He’s kind, and that He is moved by unfathomable compassion that churns within Him like a volcano and has to flow out in acts of mercy. Jesus cares. It is not His nature to turn such women, as in the above story, away. If He does not answer, it’s not that He’s ignoring me or not caring or not able. He is more than able. He can cast out any demon, heal any brain deficit, speak to the core of any lost soul and raise them from the dead. He is good. He is always totally good, spilling over with compassion and bursting with more power than I need. And so, if He does not answer, I keep asking because my persistence honors Him. It shows I believe He is who He says He is. I trust Him. I choose to reject anxiety and hopelessness, and I cling to Jesus’ generous love for me, love that cannot be contained—it has to give.

“The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said… Then Jesus answered, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.” Matthew 15:25, 28(NIV)

Today I choose to trust you LORD. I keep asking because You are my God and you love me and I believe You answer prayer.

Trusting God in My Mistakes

Years ago, with our cheerio-strewn minivan loaded with car seats, diapers, sippy cups, sleeping bags and five bouncing children, we attempted a vacation. A seven hour drive and numerous Odyssey episodes later, we arrived (with children still bouncing) at my father’s cabin, nestled deep in the wilderness of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Wanting to expend some of this infinite energy, our days consisted of hikes along beautiful rivers and rocky hills overlooking waterfalls. The way was wild, unprepared for tourists, often taking us close to dangerously steep banks… breathtaking beauty. As our kids followed us, stopping now and then to examine an animal track or some new flower or bug, we delighted to watch them. They, rather than the countless wonders around us, were the focus of nearly all our pictures. Skipping along, our children had freedom to run and play, but as we approached a dangerous area we either held tightly to their hands or carried them. They might stumble from time to time, but with a firm grip we’d quickly help them regain their balance. We were not about to let them fall.

Psalm 37:23, 24 says “If the LORD delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.”

What makes the LORD delight in a man’s way? I believe the answer is similar to that memory I just wrote about. We delighted in our children’s way, first because they were our children, and second because they were following us, not sitting down and pouting, and not running in the opposite direction. When we become God’s child and choose to follow Jesus, He delights in our way. We can trust that He will make our steps firm, no matter how wobbly they may feel to us. We may venture off the path a little, but His strong hand will pull us back.

The rocky path of launching children into adulthood is way out of my league. I am prone to stumble as I face difficult decisions and questions that I don’t know how to answer. At the end of the day I wonder if I got it right or wrong. These verses comfort me. My Father is holding my hand firmly in His strong grip. He won’t let me fall. If I wobble and make a mistake, He will stabilize my steps so that I still get to where He is taking me.  He is taking me to places where I will see more of His breathtaking beauty than I ever would if our path led down a predictably smooth city sidewalk. And it is so much easier to entrust my children, with their mistakes, to the LORD if I’m not worrying about my own mistakes.