Ephesians 2:10 (NIV) For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God
prepared in advance for us to do.
The sweet smell of Maddy's being made me smile. Her contortions made by her flailing arms and legs reminded me that she was in the throes of mastering her limbs, parts that soon would be intriguing to her as she discovers that arms and legs are connected to her and under her control. Staring intently at Maddy on Wednesday eve, I wondered what kind of personality she would show us in the years ahead. I examined her countenance for a clue as to what she was telling me about herself. But her face was still an enigma. Most certainly, she'll be different from Elly because it will be the only way to set herself apart, to switch the family dynamic to provide a stage for her to perform as well, not as a supporting actor, but as a co-star. I almost want to start writing her story of what she will be like. But my experience warns against this inkling because of my track record. I have failed 100% in the endeavors to write your stories, the manifestations of my imagination of what could be. Each of you has rebelled against my versions. Finally, I am able to let go of my perspective; finally I am capable of letting the Lord do His work in you so that you can write your own stories, yours that no one else can tell as good as you. My stories were simple and happy; your stories are not as manipulative as mine, but not happenstance. Your stories of you are not manageable like Maddy's arms and legs will be, but unmanageable and unimaginable in physical and emotional and spiritual content. One day, perhaps, a few years from now, maybe you can tell me where your stories are taking you.
My best and worst thoughts come in the wee hours of the morning, when I've finally succumbed to sleeping in bed rather than on the sofa. The nap beforehand, though, makes my bed sleep like another nap, and then I am roused by nothing more than the quiet around me. Sigh. How to occupy my time in this interim when I am no longer drowsy…mmm, first impulse, open my iPad and play games, start reading, and then when I can think of nothing else that my iPad can offer, dwell in pity for myself over some happening that made me look other than noble; then as a last thought: "Lord, have you awoken me to pray for someone?" So I start praying for everyone I can think of, and in the middle of these prayers, He tells me things that I cannot hear in the daytime when everything else is too visible in the light. This time it was on Grace, the saying of it at mealtime. I had stopped this practice when you were in high school and brought your friends (or boyfriends) home for dinner. Some of them were not churchy, so rather than make them feel uncomfortable, I deleted Grace before we ate. Then there were times when your churchy friends did show up, and because Grace had been gone from the meal, I felt uncomfortable, and judged, for not praying. Never a win-win when one compromises oneself to please others. So now, decades later, Grace will precede our meal as a step of obedience, and also as a model for Elly because how can I teach her to pray without applying it to us? Another night of insomnia a long time ago brought an opportunity to create prayers for eating, napping, and departing for her and one day for Maddy, too. Here is the version of Grace that I wrote down that night:
Dear Jesus, kind and sweet,
Thank you for the food I eat.
Make me strong and help me see
Everything you do for me.
A simple prayer that we'll be saying soon together in the "us" not "me" form. Hmmm, suggestions on how this version can be adapted to an "us?"
Welcoming Grace again,
Mom
prepared in advance for us to do.
The sweet smell of Maddy's being made me smile. Her contortions made by her flailing arms and legs reminded me that she was in the throes of mastering her limbs, parts that soon would be intriguing to her as she discovers that arms and legs are connected to her and under her control. Staring intently at Maddy on Wednesday eve, I wondered what kind of personality she would show us in the years ahead. I examined her countenance for a clue as to what she was telling me about herself. But her face was still an enigma. Most certainly, she'll be different from Elly because it will be the only way to set herself apart, to switch the family dynamic to provide a stage for her to perform as well, not as a supporting actor, but as a co-star. I almost want to start writing her story of what she will be like. But my experience warns against this inkling because of my track record. I have failed 100% in the endeavors to write your stories, the manifestations of my imagination of what could be. Each of you has rebelled against my versions. Finally, I am able to let go of my perspective; finally I am capable of letting the Lord do His work in you so that you can write your own stories, yours that no one else can tell as good as you. My stories were simple and happy; your stories are not as manipulative as mine, but not happenstance. Your stories of you are not manageable like Maddy's arms and legs will be, but unmanageable and unimaginable in physical and emotional and spiritual content. One day, perhaps, a few years from now, maybe you can tell me where your stories are taking you.
My best and worst thoughts come in the wee hours of the morning, when I've finally succumbed to sleeping in bed rather than on the sofa. The nap beforehand, though, makes my bed sleep like another nap, and then I am roused by nothing more than the quiet around me. Sigh. How to occupy my time in this interim when I am no longer drowsy…mmm, first impulse, open my iPad and play games, start reading, and then when I can think of nothing else that my iPad can offer, dwell in pity for myself over some happening that made me look other than noble; then as a last thought: "Lord, have you awoken me to pray for someone?" So I start praying for everyone I can think of, and in the middle of these prayers, He tells me things that I cannot hear in the daytime when everything else is too visible in the light. This time it was on Grace, the saying of it at mealtime. I had stopped this practice when you were in high school and brought your friends (or boyfriends) home for dinner. Some of them were not churchy, so rather than make them feel uncomfortable, I deleted Grace before we ate. Then there were times when your churchy friends did show up, and because Grace had been gone from the meal, I felt uncomfortable, and judged, for not praying. Never a win-win when one compromises oneself to please others. So now, decades later, Grace will precede our meal as a step of obedience, and also as a model for Elly because how can I teach her to pray without applying it to us? Another night of insomnia a long time ago brought an opportunity to create prayers for eating, napping, and departing for her and one day for Maddy, too. Here is the version of Grace that I wrote down that night:
Dear Jesus, kind and sweet,
Thank you for the food I eat.
Make me strong and help me see
Everything you do for me.
A simple prayer that we'll be saying soon together in the "us" not "me" form. Hmmm, suggestions on how this version can be adapted to an "us?"
Welcoming Grace again,
Mom