A good reminder from 2.27.2013 (and now Toby Mac's song is actually playing on the radio).
Speak life....
I awake to the familiar dread. Stuck in reality...no more moments of escape. Yes, someone has to make breakfast, teach the children, manage the schedule, run the miles, clean the messes. Me. I lay still and hear the hushed voices down the hall. Whispers, giggling, a hard-toned loud whisper. Three girls hoping their Momma won't hear their freedom and come to spoil. Three who find pure pleasure in the naughty. Three sensory-seekers that consume and overwhelm. I hear the Whisper in my mind, "you have all you need". I half smile, honestly half smirk, and arise. I mutter aloud, "Yes Lord, I do, just having trouble believing today...again."
I have been praying, pleading for change.
We, my four and I, experience our norm. A few moments of kindness. A mishap. One yell, another; a threat; an outburst; a consequence. A few moments of kindness. Another mishap..... Repeat. Over and over we tumble. We are familiar with our dance. I search deep in Promise's eyes at breakfast, then Faith's. Joy looks back as I search hers; hers always smiling. Hope won't look up - avoidance. I imagine they all want change too. This is a rare morning when The Warrior Daddy is home, destined to work into the late night. He looks deep into my eyes. We share the experience of needed change. We are surviving together. He gives our four a stern face, reminds them to obey, reminds them of the consequence of not. They look intently, sit a bit taller at our old farm table. He gets up and disappears down the hall. They dance away.
I manage to stumble through another morning of Kindergarten. I rush through lunch. I am closer to my scheduled escape run, the one I dreaded this morning, but now desperately need. Standing at the sink, I glance sideways, spying on my four. A tongue sticking out, a sly hit, a giggle across the table. Hope warns sternly. He is harder than I, and my heart is sad. A 12-year-old man-child who is so frustrated, his normal everyday a far cry from normal. What is "normal" anyway? That question perplexes me and provokes a twinge of anger. I am tired of the comparison. I know He has written this moment, this sadness I feel. I glance up at the windowsill, at the purple 365 Bible Promises for WOMEN perpetual calendar. It reads: February 27: God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work (2 Corinthians 9:8 NIV). In this thing? At this time? I will abound in every good work? I thank Him for the reminder again, I have all I need. He is always good. He is in control of even this moment when I query.
And finally, Joy tucked in her room lining up cars, Faith and Promise down for an afternoon nap ( ;)- synonym for forced quiet time on bed), and Hope fighting with his language arts, I run hard. The treadmill and I do blend in perfect harmony on certain days. I try and fail to open Bible Gateway on the ipad. I settle for Netflix, and 38 minutes in, just at the climax of the show, Netflix freezes too. Unplanned interruption for me, opportunity for Him. He knows me so well. With my sensory-avoiding system awake, still running, I hit the round button on the right and click on the Music icon. He has been waiting to speak, and Toby Mac sings the lyrics clear, and my mind jolts. This is a holy moment, Jesus whispering each word into my heart. Eye On It, #5 Speak Life.
...it's crazy, amazing, we can turn a heart through the words we say
mountains crumble with every syllable,
hope can live or die
so speak life, speak life
to the deadest darkest night
speak life, speak life
when the sun won't shine and you don't know why
look into the eyes of the broken hearted
watch them come alive as soon as you speak hope
you speak love
you speak life
some days the tongue gets twisted, other days my thoughts just fall apart
I do, I don't, I will, I won't
it's like I'm drownin' in the deep
well it's crazy to imagine words from our lips as the arms of compassion...
I listen, inventory words, and tears fall. He gently asks, "will you speak life to them? Will you speak life when you feel in the depth of the deadest darkest night? Will you speak life when the sun won't shine and you don't know why? Will you put your broken heart aside, and speak life to theirs? Will you extend arms of compassion?"
I hit repeat and look up at the faded yellow index card tacked to the bulletin board facing the treadmill. I read the Words, and breath in Him.
"Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering; bearing with one another, and forgiving one another, if anyone has a complaint against another; even as Christ forgave you, so you also must do. But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord. And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." (Colossians 3:12-17 NKJV)
Speak life with tender mercy, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering. Bear with them, forgive them as He forgives me. Put on love, the bond of perfection. I desire the perfect bond with the four, the perfect bond of love. Let the peace of Him rule - not the peace of me. And there it is, just as Ann so eloquently pointed out, "be thankful". Be thankful, because I do believe too that thankfulness preceeds the miracle. Admonish and teach them with psalms, hymns, spiritual songs. Sing (a lovely manner of speaking) over them with the grace in my heart He craves. Do everything in His name, giving thanks to the Father. Speak every word in His name, with thanksgiving.
My words, a catalyst to the change I'm pleading for?
My ipad music is set to random selection. The next song begins, #7 Lose Myself. I feel His nudge, His charge upon my heart.
A few hours later, typing away on the computer, I pick up the ipad again and hit the dictionary icon. The definition for compassion is right there on the search bar. I read His answer. I glimpse the reflection of the wood plaque standing tall above the sliding glass doors on the computer screen. Carefully painted 10-year-old words read, "Lead me on and I will run after You." The old familiar tune plays in my mind and brings a smile. Speak life....
