How often do we forget how truly blessed we are? How often are our greatest blessings disguised by the normalcy of day-to-day life? Today, I am opening my eyes to the magical gifts that are tragically disguised as mundane…
Oh, how blessed am I! Twice now has my belly swelled with life, treasure crafted from the reserves of my own body, crafted with nearly none of my own skills or handiwork. My own fragile flesh has heaved and groaned and pushed out two magnificent vessels of beauty, expert craftsmanship carrying the very breath of God.
How blessed am I. That my breasts could so effortlessly swell with this liquid gold, a fountain of milky cream from the maze within that rises, flooding with nutrients, every time my angel cries to be nourished.
How blessed am I. My two darlings have slept and sipped and snuggled their way into toddlerhood, and have become the best of friends. My tiny boy, less tiny with each passing day, his hair like a mound of sun-kissed strawberries, each year bringing a bit more sunshine and less strawberry. He is my leader. My tender-hearted warrior. His deep hazel eyes dance delight, blaze fire, and drip disappointment. His voice is incessant, commanding, and never in doubt. His laugh is infectious and his sandy-skinned frame, like a jungle-gym monkey, never stops moving.
Then there’s my tiny girl, with her wide button nose, her square-like jaw line with those plump, kissable cheeks, and her almond eyes that boast a breathtaking grey-blue. Her hair like sunshine tinted with earth that is trying so hard to spin itself into curls. She is my singer – I daresay the attempt to sing nearly rivaled her attempt to speak. She adores bright, happy colors and lifts her hands to feel the wind – just like me. She loves flowers and dresses and barefeet and swings – she is my wild little princess. Just like her mama.
Both of my tiny disciples love to be outside. They love to dance with all their heart – never fearing that they are doing it wrong or assuming that anyone is anything less than enthralled with their every move.
And aren’t we?
And when did we start caring what anyone else thought about our every move?
Our heavenly Daddy soaks in our every move with delight, enthralled with our very being.
Surely one of the reasons He gives us these tiny mirrors is so that we understand how very deeply we are loved.
My heavenly Daddy is enthralled with my every move. How blessed am I! To know the voice of the One Whose very breath birthed my spirit; to be so familiar with the hands that knit my cell and sinew; to be intimately entwined with the heart of my very Maker. How blessed am I!
How blessed am I to have found my passionate darling, this lover of me. What kind of gift is this – to live every day by the side of my sandy-haired prince with the tender heart and the sea-swept eyes that crinkle every time he laughs. To live each and every day – rain-drenched, sun-kissed, snow-swept, storm-tossed, wildflower-flecked days – each of them hand in hand with my most intimate friend, with my most favorite person in all the world.
How blessed am I to have a home to call “mine”. Colorful walls and soft carpet, shining hardwood floors begging to be danced upon, plush chairs and pillows and beds and blankets and little stuffed woodland creatures to snuggle with at night. A place that is filled with the Spirit of God and the personality of our family; a haven of whispered prayers and hopes; plaster walls ringing with laughter and the sound of singing; floors that have witnessed many a dance and soaked up many tears.
In many ways it is no more than a box made of wood and nails and a bit of glass, plaster and paint, on a patch of grass – but mix in some color and texture, some music and laughter, sprinkle in tears and pour in some prayers, swirl in a flood of memories – and that simple wooden box on the patch of grass has become our home. Our haven of rest. Our safe place, tucked away from the rest of the world, even while smack-dab in the middle of it. How blessed am I.
How blessed am I to have a church that is more like a family. Where many hands come together to make light work, where many hearts come together to make heavy hearts lighter, where heavy work and homemade meals are shared and friendships are forged. Where worship is free and tears are allowed and the raw and the real is encouraged. Where the Word is taught and my soul and spirit are challenged. How blessed am I.
How blessed am I.
HOW BLESSED ARE YOU?