little one. big prayer.

In the shadows, the rocking back and forth, slow and calming.  She is still and hushed in my arms.  I begin, “Dear Jesus,”

And from across the room, in a bed that makes him look so very small. Under four blankets and one pair of Thomas the train pajamas…

Thank you Potato Head.  Thank you eyes. Thank you other ear in morning(the one we can’t find). Thank you light off. Thank you hat. Thank you nose. Thank you Hudson’s nose back (a game we play). Thank you glove. Thank you play scarf. Thank you new car. Thank you Lightning and Mater. Thank you silly monsters. Thank you TV. Thank you Harper. Thank you Daddy. Thank you Daddy and Mommy. Thank you play house. Thank you make house (a project from today). Thank you house.  Thank you MMs (the candy) Thank you tortilla. Thank you light. Thank you moon. Thank you dark outside.  Thank you good day.  Thank you shoes. Thank you shoes back. Thank you gloves back. Thank you play gloves.  Thank you Uncle Josh. Uncle Josiah. Thank you sandwich and chips.  Thank you milk.  Thank you Harper’s shirt. Thank you Harper’s baby car.  Thank you hippo. Thank you animals. Thank you elephant. Thank you other elephant.  Thank you baby Jesus. Thank you obey mommy. Thank you daddy home to us.

A recap of the day? A stall tactic? Or a whole bunch of thankful pouring out of a three year old?

Either way, my smile hurts my face.

 

Linking up with Just Write. 

The flicker of the flames

 

Lights from passing cars and street sweep across the windows, the room is dim, save the small flickering tea lights on a plate.  A glass of wine, a chunk of fresh bread. Our new Sunday night tradition, a time to pause, reflect, give thanks, and to be still. Remembering.

Noise from the apartment below, a teenager and way too many friends playing video games.  The bass can be felt on the floor.  Above, a mother is yelling at her son, again, for apparently, everything he has ever done wrong. It’s a miracle our children are sleeping. Our eyes exchange a long glance and we sigh, one more month.

Yet, somehow it all seems so fitting, the unwanted noise and strife that surrounds us.

The flames reflect on the wine glass, brightening the rich crimson. I watch it for a while, noticing how the light makes the color even more lovely and vibrant.  Our hands rest intertwined on the table. He starts with a prayer.  I don’t like to close my eyes when praying, I never have.  Maybe, there are messages and beauty that are meant to accompany the words. And I think that prayer is the opposite of darkness.  As I listen, I watch the dancing reflection more.  If my eyes were closed, I would have only heard the unwanted noise, I would never have noticed.

In a world that’s plagued with brokenness and hopelessness, anger and pain, confusion and turmoil,

there is a light that makes all things new and beautiful.

on the night he was betrayed, took bread, ²⁴and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” ²⁵In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.”

-1 Corinthians 11:23-25

Impending adventure

We’re moving in approximately six weeks… somewhere.

Sometimes, God puts together two artist adventurers and we say, “Here we go.”  Then He says, “This will be fun.”

Sometimes, we make wild declarations for our love of the unknown and then He says, “Well, in that case…”

And sometimes, even when we throw grown up fits, the kind laced with logical and reason, when we think we want all the answers, out of the depths of our heart, our greatest desires surge from within and speak to us.

Matt came home from work one day last week.  That afternoon I had a conversation with a friend, the kind that always leaves me encouraged and remembering my dreams.  He took one look at new art on the wall and said, “Are you trying to tell me something?”  I said, “No, I’m trying to tell us something.”

This, my friends is the current state of things.

Hold on tight.

---

Ayden waited as Maven sat patiently by the fire.  His silence only made the time pass more slowly. 

What was he listening for? Only the wind dared speak.  Would his commission come from the mountain’s breath?  Would the north or the east call his name?

How would he know when to leave and begin his pilgrimage?

How would he know which way to go?

When he could bear it no longer, he chanced to interrupt his mentor and blurted, “When will I begin?

“Now,” Maven replied.

“Then which way do I go?” Ayden could not hide is frustration in his asking.

Maven instructed, ”Anywhere there’s not a path.”

Suddenly Ayden realized that all through the night it was Maven who waited on him.

{Entry 392/The Perils of Ayden}

---

“I’m afraid,” he confessed as maven stood with him in the place where his quest would begin.

“Of what?” Maven asked in his calming voice.

“For this journey.  Have I learned all I need to know?” Ayden queried.

“Ayden,” he replied, “You know all you need to learn.”

“What should I take with me?” Ayden continued.

“Leave all you have and take all you are.”

Ayden persisted, ‘And the path, is it safe to travel?”

Maven looked at him sternly for the first time he could remember and scolded him, ‘it is not safe to remain! it is not the place but the presence that upholds you!  This is your own certainty. Go! Walk were no man has walked, yet you find footprints.”

{Entry 709/The Perils of Ayden}

Excerpts from Erwin McManus’ Chasing Daylight.