Busy, Hunt & Find, Why?

I dropped her and her boys off at the airport. The car was noisy. Screeching boys grabbing each other's heads. Yanking as best they could in spite of the restrictions of their seat belts. Pulling to the curb, my thoughts focus on getting luggage to the curb. Anything to push back the full blown dam of tears that want to gush. I grab each boy...youngest (inner thought--is he always looking for something to climb?), I pull him off the jersey wall and put a bear hug on him, "Grammy loves you so much."  Next, I find the oldest, (inner thought--this child is going to be taller than me in two more years and he'll soon be nine), trying not to be a mushy Grammy, "I love you so much and I'm going to miss you." And lastly, the middle boy, (inner thought, I want to savor the smell of this fresh boy hair), "I really, really love you so much, Grammy does." Then comes the hardest, hugging away my only daughter who is on the opposite coast. (Inner thoughts, we've come so far and I love this woman who shares my spiritual conversations and even truthful gripe sessions--yet we know our faith is steadfast; I miss her presence.) "I love you so much." It's enough because the dam is fragile.

I delay coming home. Manicure. Pedicure. Exchange items at store. Buy Legos at Toys R Us. (Because that's what is special about the visit with these three boys...new Lego sets to put together with Grammy.) Rationalization for buying them now: for the next time they come.

 Coming home, I go immediately into busyness. Changing sheets. Putting away the "take and migrate" items at the hands of the youngest. Then comes the hunt and find. What did they leave?

A Blanket lays on the breakfast table beside a half eaten piece of Nutella toast. The Spiderman technicolor ball of cloth is thrust to my nostrils. I suck in deep and long. Littliest boy. Not washing this for awhile. Into the hunt again. Triumph, the oldest's shirt. This will have to be mailed because it's a school shirt. I hold it up and gaze amazed. This first born of my daughter has opened up like a dry sponge plunged into water. I remember holding this boy as a few day old bundle and praying a blessing over him...this one who has left a shirt bearing a football helmet.

The day isn't over, perhaps the middle one has left something behind that will give Grammy a moment's pause at his specialness...hope is alive.






One more stop by the computer and check Flight Tracker. One more hour and they will be home. It's been almost four hours since my life started pushing back to my own normal as Juanita instead of Grammy. Quiet house. My own messes. The ticking away of time till they come again.

Glancing outside the window, I spy the red Solo cup on the dead stump by the driveway. Daughter sat it there while dodging boys & Grammy on bikes. I'll let it stay for a while...my daughter's hands were on this cup. Her fingerprints alone remain.

I have to say, it's time I let the dam break. Why? They just landed. The weather copies my mood. The thunder rolls and rain falls; I join in the pouring.

My Story

I've been reading Adele Ahberg Calhoun's book, Invitations from God. I've been reading it for about 6 months. It's one of those books that needs the time and space, savoring and pondering. It's a directional book. An informative book. A lesson book. For me, it cannot be devoured and then forgotten. It has pulled me into assessing my thoughts, my griefs, my motives, my intents, my misgivings, my history, my future, my concepts of God, my concepts of me, my future, my past, my now, my life.

I was going to ramble on and on but have decided to let a picture speak what I feel has come from Ms Calhoun's book.

There is a Robin's Snow on this morning. More than expected. Exquisitely beautiful! My story is like this Maple Tree. Probably 60 years old. Been through a lot; lot of broken branches, gnarled branches, split at the trunk, meaning that something traumatized it when it was young. And yet it has grown. And it is beautiful because of its life's weathering. This spring day, Monday of the Passion Week, it is covered in white snow. The pink buds of new life and a new season are under this coating of purity.

This is my story. Standing. Budding. Growing. Resting. Giving. Covered in God's glorious purity and righteousness...redemption.

I have to say, it's His story.

Identity

Proverbs 25:11

"Like apples of gold in settings of silver

is a word spoken in right circumstances."

I like to think of them as the Lord's Truth Fruit!

When do we learn or realize who we are? "Who are you?" Most of us answer that question by the things we do or by the different relationships we have and the roles we play in those relationships. But that's not who I am. It's taken me a while to know who I am. I am a woman who appreciates and thrives in nature. I have a keen sensing of others feelings. I like to engage strangers in a checkout line or the clerk and make it a goal of making them smile. I like to give compliments. Yet, I feel that I swing from being mentally stable to schizophrenic!!! I'm mostly positive but can swing judgmental on a bad day. I like people. Some more than others!

This past year has been a year of discovering who God says I am. I fought Him much of the time. I fought by not believing Him. I allowed my back story, which has had a huge voice all my life, define, override, and replace any truth of which He's been trying to convince me. Why do I fight against His truth? Especially truth about myself? He tells me I'm worthy and I come back quickly and say no way. I just called God a liar. He tells me that I'm forgiven and I allow my feelings to dismiss His sublime act. I make Him out as a liar. He tells me that He's always near and I frantically call out, "Where are You?" I disbelieve His nearness. What happened to my knowledge that God does not lie? Why didn't my firm belief that He cannot lie kick in?

Because...

I gave my eyes, ears, emotions over to the one who is a Liar. I am a fool to think that my daily going-ons are not fodder for satan's prime tool of making God out to be the liar. It was the first tool he used on Mother Eve. Convincing her that all God said to her, about her, for her, wasn't true. And she plucked! And I find myself at times plucking away at those forbidden fruits.

I learned this year that the best way to not default in giving The Liar my eyes, ears, emotions is to act on my belief of God's absolute loving Presence. When I first asked forgiveness in 1971 for my sin, He forgave. That instant, He supernaturally covered and filled me with Himself. How He does that, I've no clue. I knew I was different. I had an insatiable hunger to know more. I got into Bible Studies that were amazing. I learned and gobbled up truth. Yet, the day to day of life always tests truth.

Life tests our identity. Our identity is in God's truth.

My identity is in Him. For 42 years now, it has been a daily work in whether I will pluck the "apple of deceit" or Truth's Apples of Gold.

I have to say, I'm going to be extremely picky over what I'm plucking from now on. Whatever I choose to pick says a lot about who I am and whom I'm going to believe...the liar or The Truth.