Oh Me Of Little Faith

She tells me this is where Faith comes in.

If God had limited patience instead of limiteless patience, I would have worn Him out yesterday.

It was a hand wringing day. And I know better.

I am surrounded by nativity scenes. Hemmed in by mangers. One to my left, one to my right and one behind my doubting Thomas head.

The Trinity symbolized I see now, by my three scenes of His birth. And  I still wring the hands though He wrought a life of pain and sacrifice for me.

And even with the physical reminders of my Savior I still need to be told….and this is where Faith comes in.

She knows my deep struggle. She is what I needed God to bring my way months ago as my struggle as a parent of a child who learns like we all do, uniquely. Who is wired like we all are, by Father God, individually, with strengths and gifts. Who is growing, as we all are on this journey, at his pace marked by his beautifully and wonderfully made intricacies.

But a mother wrings her hands and a heart has been know to skip a beat or double up on beats. And she has come along to hold my hand in the dark nights of the soul.

And there is another too. Who writes a beautiful letter. He is patient and strong and godly. And he tells me things that make me cry, too busy in my doubt and worry to see on my own. Too close and too doubled over in confusion to see or own or know, truly. Words of confidence and hope. Words of affirmation and decisiveness.

The two come along side and bolster my spirits and I know they are life savers wearing flesh and blood and bones to a mother of waning faith.

And at the end of the night, when the black curtain pulls over a day marked with fatigue and anxiety she speaks into my soul. Words I don’t read until His new mercy morning arrives.

And she write these words “He is a great kid…we just all need to help him learn how to access his strengths and use them…it will come with time, patience, and persistence! HAVE FAITH!

And like the perfect storms of life, she is talking and texting and emailing me with a diligence and committment to shoring up my child’s struggles with a tender and firm spirit. And the calm before the storm comes in fact after the storm has passed.

She knows the language which sounds like Greek to my ears of misunderstanding and misinterpretation.  I am learning daily the language of ADHD. And it is Russian and Chinese and Hebrew all rolled into one. I need a translator. I need help.

It comes in the form of co-pilgrims and co-laborers.

I wrote a letter yesterday to my church  which was hard to explain to a questioning child. She looks on me with doubt and lack of understanding. I tell her, if you read my letter you will understand why I feel lead to step back for a season from serving.Because I know in the letter I have said I feel like this is an act of obedience. And there is confusion and fatigue from schism and division and I need a season of quiet and contemplation and prayer and clarity.

A pause in my serving to steady a wobbly spirit.

But I can see I have let her down. She worries that it means we are leaving the church. We are not. I am taking a pause in my service in several different capacities.

And the quiet sets in. And the last thing I want to do is disappoint a child.

But she is questioning and maybe confused. And who can read a sixteen year old girl’s mind.

So I look at the managers that hem me in. There are three. Some days I need one hundred and  three. Days like my yesterday.

I thank Him for His new Mercies, for the rain and for tears.

My husband walked in from Fishermen men’s ministry, last night.

Our friend spoke. He has months to live. He has cancer.

And when you have been in the midst of one so full of faith and full of life you radiate the Glory and the Hope that come beaming from the face of a man at perfect peace. From our friend Pete.

You bring all that home with you from a night in the presence of living, breathing, Hope.

He tells me pieces of  stories that Pete told the men. Some of it I grabbed and some of it my weary hand wringing self let fall to the ground.

A weary soul doesn’t hold tight to Hope.

But you long  to brush up against Hope like this and pray that the remnants and particules like dust fall on you and stay. Fall on a weary dusty soul. Dirty with doubt.

And I pray my daughter can wrap understanding around my walking away for a season of pause. That I didn’t throw in the towel , its only in the wash for a season of renewal. And to gain clarity of mind and heart and spirit. That in obedience to Him He will give me a language of love to explain to her rightly my decision.

Just like the language of understanding I need to learn to speak with my son in his struggles that are uniquely his own.

Its raining outside, the day weeps as I weep.

And I think that today I will play as I did when I was a child. With the manager scene. Didn’t we all. Move the pieces around and marvel. Look on the Mary and Joseph and the animals and the moveable baby Jesus.

I think I’ll move in a little closer to the manager today and the baby who bears the weight of the world and the weight of my sin.

And today, the weight of a mother’s pain as she seeks an increase in faith.

This rainy December day, I know anew, His mercies are new everyday.

And that I can proclaim Alleluia Anyway.

ESM and Stella

Linking with Emily, Jennifer, and Duane today. Joining Joy at joy in this journey dot com for Life Unmasked.

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A Frame, A Lense, And The Eyes of The Heart

When I look I see.

When I see I feel.

When I feel what I see when I look is it because the eyes of my heart are soft and tender? Am I looking through the frame of His word? Am I looking through a lense created by His hands, molding and shaping and forming my will and my thoughts.

Whispering gently in my ear is the notion of perspective. It has been for sometime. The title of this blog is viewing life through a lense of grace. So the tapes in my head and the beat of my heart is to the song of perspective. And framing. And viewing.

And yesterday I saw it in a fresh way with a child. It is the children who teach and point and show and bend the heart to truth. It is so often they who press in to the hard places and make them tender, the rough places and make them smooth.

Everytime I hear and respond, I have a choice. And everytime I see and act, I have a choice.

I want to choose well. And so very often I don’t.

But the lessons keep coming and the chances for new mercy and change are ripe for the picking. And I want a basket of juicy and sweet fruit to hang from my arm swaying in sweet love.

One has a challenge with ADHD. So I have a challenge with ADHD. And I can choose the lense of patience, and understanding. If I choose to. And view his heart and life through a beautiful lense of tender mercy, with my momma love.

When I go off into a writer’s imagination and dream, I dream of writing a book on perspective and framing events, and circumstances and the story of our lives with a frame of grace and beauty. Shhhhh, don’t tell anyone. You are the first I have told of this dream. Can you keep it tucked away?

Because each part of the story that has a narrative of pain and challenge, has brought deeper understanding of His charachter and love.In my life. So the eyes that saw hurt or pain or confusion can now frame circumstances in richer understanding. I feel tugs and pulls to write of framing with grace and framing with love. Is it a season for my heart? Most likely. I want to stay there for eternity, so that I can see my world with more compassion, more tenderness, more mercy and more love.

Yesterday I glimpsed with a sharpened lense of grace a child. And a beautiful change. He is Grace. I want to reflect Him more. I want to show more and more and more grace in love to my world. And my child with ADHD is a good starting place. For me.

Because even when I reach down to draw from the springs of empathy and cry out for more empathy and understanding and patience, do I really know the individual struggle and challenges of an ADHD child?But God knows. The number of hairs on his head even, amazing. Amazingly. Beyond a mother’s heart of understanding is the love He has.

Each of us grow and learn down a path that is our very own. I want to go before my child with grace, and sprinkle bread crumbs of patience and understanding on his way.And mark it with compassion. And hem him in with gentleness and mercy. He has one more year at home. I want to end well my journey of his days at home.

I am a miserable failure, broken and banged up on my own.

Mercifully, God goes down these mother roads in tandem with me. And I can look at mothering through the lense of the cross.

And the road of friend, and wife and sister and child. And neighbor and writer and blogger and each and every role He allows me the privilege of playing.

Praying for His grace as we start this “new year” of school and life.

And as always, grateful and privileged to have you on this journey.

And it would be a joy to have you come to my facebook page, wynnegraceappears on FB (scroll to the bottom of this page and click over). Thank you in advance. We can chat over there some too.That would be lovely.

If you are on twitter, I am at @graceappears on twitter.See you there?

Eyes To See Like He Sees

{Today I am linking up over at Lisa Jo’s for some fun on Friday. Today we are writing for five minutes on the word prompt see. No editing, no over thinking, just writing for five minutes. Come see what the fun is all about at The Gypsy Mama’s blog. Ready, go, write}

I see him there.  Yes right there working through this preparation to go off to camp, no its not off to war.  We had dinner with a friend this week, he’d just gotten that call.  You know the dreaded one, his nephew had just been shot in Afghanistan.  No its not that.

The eyes of my head see the mess, the struggle, the confusion, the ADHD still there tangling up the processes of life.

Messy messes and turmoil.  No organization.  Upheaval.  The eyes of my heart know that it is this.

I have seen this for years now, how it challenges and entangles and strangles.

Today he leaves for camp and I will see through blurry eyes a child soon to be a man, in months now, walking out the door to be a counselor, to help others.

And I know that when he walks back in the door I will see transformation and change. I will see maturity and new talents and experiences that have jumped on his back for the trip back home.

But more than anything while he is gone, I want to learn to see him through the eyes of God.  To see past and through and deeply down into his inner places of hurt and pain, the way God sees.

Kingdom eyes please give me the eyes to see like You.

STOP