Gah-mah’s Arms

Today's guest is a Twitter friend, Sandra Heska King.  Here's a bit about her. Sandra (AKA Sandy or even Snady, the result of a typo that stuck) lives in Michigan in the same 150-year-old farmhouse her husband grew up in. She is mom to two grown adopted children and grandma to Gracee and Lillee. Snady is a passionate chocolate lover, avid Detroit Tigers fan, Bible teacher and inspirational writer who keeps her
nursing license intact. Website: Sandra Heska King

She lies spread-eagled in the Pack-n-Play.
So vulnerable. So dependant.
I want to pick her up. Cradle her. Drink deep of baby. I want to savor the scent of formula
and lotion and sweat and damp diaper.
I want to stroke her hands and her feet. I want to smile and coo and sing.
My arms ache to hold her.
While her needs are simple and her wants are few.
Because I know how fast time passes.
When her little body will no longer fit neatly in one arm. When her legs will dangle off
my lap. When I won’t be able to even pick her up. When she’ll squirm away or avoid my
touch.
When little things won’t mesmerize her. When she’ll seek bigger thrills.
When she’ll smell of peanut butter and bubble gum and cotton candy and popcorn.
Of hair spray and perfume. (But please, dear God, not cigarettes or alcohol or blood.)
When she thinks she knows all, needs nobody.
But still so vulnerable.
My arms ache from holding her.
I gently trace her jaw line with my index finger, cup her face with my hand. It fits in my
palm. She stirs, and I pull back. She needs to rest. We’ve had a busy morning.
Walking, bouncing, rocking, rattling, bathing, talking.
Yes, she talks. Even at only seven weeks old. And she has a lot to say.
“Ooooooh! Ahhh-oooh. Goo-wah. Eeee-yah!”
And I know she said, “Gah-mah!” Yep. I heard it. She did.
For now I stand guard. Hover while she sleeps. Wait until she wakes.
I tuck this moment under my heart.
I wish I could tuck her under my wings. Hide her from any hurt or pain. But I know I
can’t. At least from everything. I couldn’t with her mom. I can’t with her sister. I know
she’ll pass through refining fires.
But I remember that I must let her go. To the One whose ways and timing are perfect.
And I can pray. That she won’t be burned. That she’ll make good choices. That life’s
punches will make her stronger. That she will know and cling to the One whose feathers
are broad. That she’ll rest in the shelter of His wings. Totally dependent on Him.
And that she’ll know that no matter how old she gets or how tall she grows, “Gah-mah’s”
arms ache to hold her.
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalm 91:1-4 (NIV)
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King

Leaping the Wall

Joining us today is Cassandra Frear.  I "met" her on Twitter, then found her blog http://www.moonboatcafe.com/.  She is a lovely lady & a gifted writer.  Her profile states she is a "wife, mother, gardener, hiker, writer... walking the path ... and finding the joy poured out .... It's a good life." Today, she's sharing a post about obstacles and how we can respond to them. 

I' ve been turning this idea around in my mind for weeks. I'm at a crossroads in my life.

What if I just leaped the next wall and started? What if I just started writing what was on my heart? What if I stopped thinking about what someone else might expect? What if I stopped worrying about what publishers might be looking for? What if I just wrote the book that I must write -- you know, the one that if I don't write, I will regret it when I lay dying?

I've looked back and seen where I took great risks and did "okay." I leaped a wall, I fought a hard fight, I'm still standing at the end -- but I didn't actually gain the things I really wanted from it. Somehow, I missed what was required to be fully successful. I'm clueless about what else I could have done or should have been.

When I turn and look at my future, what do I see? More risks. More uncertainty. Another series of challenges. This is not the best time for leaping over any walls. Best to hunker down and wait for better conditions.

Yes, I can see how the landscape is on the other side. I can see beauty and adventure and mystery waiting there. But there's danger, too. I need to be strong to travel, and I'm not.

Besides, I haven't had the heart for leaping a wall again.

I can't decide which is worse: to try with all my might and fall short, or to decide to let the opportunity pass me by. I can't determine, by looking from this spot, whether trying with all my might, facing fears, and leaping walls make my life any better. I know enough to figure that the cost will be higher than my estimate and the rewards will be less satisfying than I hope.

You see, I've been here before. I've taken the leap, made the plunge, took the chance. And yes, it was good. But not great. I lost things on the way, things I'll never get back. We can't go leaping walls and think we're always going to land in a bed of roses. It doesn't work that way. Not in a fallen world. Leaping isn't a path to paradise. More often it's a path to battle.

This is the challenge for those of us who have already leaped walls and fought good fights: how to go on. How to do it again as though we're doing it for the first time. We weigh the cost. We consider what we know. We've already discovered it won't always make our lives better.

But I know this. It makes me better. Not more successful. Not stronger or braver or more competent in any way. No. Instead, it changes my heart. It humbles me. It makes me more compassionate and more aware of others. It makes me better at loving.

Why this is, I cannot say. But the person God wants me to become is on the other side of this wall. I could leap over, or not. He leaves the choice to me. It isn't success He's after. It's my character. I remember his words to me, returning from years ago to refresh my soul. They pour over me like a song.

For it is you who light my lamp;

the Lord my God lightens my darkness.

For by you I can run against a troop,

and by my God I can leap over a wall.

This God—his way is perfect;

the word of the Lord proves true;

he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.

For who is God, but the Lord?

And who is a rock, except our God?—

the God who equipped me with strength

and made my way blameless.

He made my feet like the feet of a deer

and set me secure on the heights.

He trains my hands for war,

so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You have given me the shield of your salvation,

and your right hand supported me,

and your gentleness made me great. (Psalm 18 ESV)

In the end, it is God's gentleness that makes me great -- makes me more like him. But I must do my part. We are partners, God and I. He looks to me to do what only I can do. I must leap the wall, run the path, fight the good fight in front of me. And there, I'll find my true reward, the one that can't be taken away.

___________________________________

How do you get yourself over a wall?

Text , copyright 2010 by Cassandra Frear.

Tuesday thought(s)

DH & I were having a discussion last night about different styles of worship.  He is very reserved & feels it is irreverent to get "too emotional" during church.  He finds dancing, yelling out, raising hands, etc to be distasteful.  So I said all of those demonstrations were scriptural & joked that at least nobody in church danced naked before the Lord like King David did.  Can I get an amen on that?? **shivers**

Anyway, all that to say this: what are your thoughts?  Do you perceive God as "Father" or "Daddy" (Abba, in the Hebrew)?  I think people's perceptions of God are largely colored by the relationship with their earthly father. 

For instance, if your dad was reserved & kept you at "arm's reach", you will likely think that is God's wish as well.  If your dad was physically & emotionally demonstrative, then that will also flavor your relationship with God. 

While I believe God is due all honor & respect, I kinda like the image of being able to crawl up on His lap & cry, laugh, or just talk to Him; I think He does too.   What are your thoughts?? Please share ...