I had an opportunity to talk with someone last night at a picnic. She was hurting and was scared to be there. Of the hundred or so people at the event I was one of two she would have been comfortable talking with. My husband chose our seat. She and I hadn’t seen each other in a couple of years. I knew God placed me there to listen to her and to speak into her life. That could sound patronizing and that is not what I want to be. Even as we spoke I prayed that I would give all He wanted me to give with her and to receive all He had for me. I tried to be honest in my insecurities. I don’t have it all together but I am getting a taste of God’s love which is heady stuff.

I don’t know how to have this relationship but am willing to trust God and stand in the awkward feelings. I used to think I had to figure things out and then I didn’t know how and gave up. I am learning I just need to be willing to not know, to listen and obey.

My commitment is to love others. Today I was thinking about my conversation with this woman and just sort of checking in with my heart. Am I willing to press into a relationship that feels like work? I wanted to write my thoughts to deepen my commitment. It would be too easy to just let her drift away. I know she won’t pursue me. I think God is asking me to be a part of His pursuit of her. I am so grateful that He has fought for me and even if it costs me I will try to fight with Him for another.

Will I love you if you aren’t incredibly smart, if you don’t make me laugh, don’t entertain me? Will I love you if you don’t have a lot of money and that disparity between us makes me feel awkward? Will I love you when I feel guilty that you work so much and I get to stay home with my kids, knowing that you feel so guilty because you do? Will I love you in your need and keep showing you my own without patronizing?

I know I will be nice. I save my bitchiness and harshness for those who love me. I will be nice. I already care about you. I want to love you, but I don’t know exactly what that looks like. But I know One who knows everything. Since I want you to know Him I am going to trust Him to show me how to love you through my smallness, my insecurities and fears, through the disparities between us. Because it seems like there is some sort of us, I don’t know what we are exactly, but I am keeping my eyes open for the hand of God and I feel it on my back pressing me towards you.

Just like I told you there was nothing to do, but keep walking and He would show you the next step; I am going to take my own advice. This is me walking.

I am the substitute lunch volunteer for my nine year old son’s class. Yesterday a mother was sick and I got the call to come in. The teacher is phenomenal and was requested by a lot of parents. The boy/ girl ratio is something like 17 to 8. My son, who is profoundly deaf with ADHD, is not the most challenging student. Think about that. At lunch time it can get a bit zooey. I just went on a long field trip with this class and drove a van full of boys. I might have lost patience with some of them.

I don’t know if I have mentioned it here that lately I have been experiencing God’s love in a new and profound way. As a result I am understanding that any problems and frustrations in my life I can usually trace back to a lack of love in me.

One kid in particular really bugs me. My son struggles, Oh wait, that would suggest a fight on his part which is not the case. My son does not pay attention. His teacher struggles to keep him on task. Any chance he gets (or takes) his nose is in a book. His teacher is constantly telling him to put a book away and pay attention. Last week, this other child, told my son to stop reading. It was right after the field trip and entirely appropriate for my son to be reading. The attitude this other boy had was officious and cocky. I might be making that up because I know I am the mother of a child with special needs and therefore a special breed myself (part lioness/part angel of mercy, essentially one bad mother…wait this is a family show…a lady with a fast trigger). I wanted to smack the smug look off this kid’s fat face, but I chose to tell him to worry about himself instead. I smiled and kept my tone neutral but I am sure his spirit felt smacked by mine.

Yesterday, as I approached my son’s classroom I thought about this boy and prayed for love to fill my heart. When I entered the room and saw a sub it sank. The class had already been clawing on her tender meat and turned to me with glee. “Are you substituting today?” several asked. The sub hurriedly handed out the lunch and milk coupons then scurried out the door. As everyone got their lunches there was the inevitable noise. Once everyone had been served I shut the door and began cracking the whip. Boys were bouncing out of their chairs. I stayed on them but when there were multiple repeat offenders I grabbed a marker and marched to the board. I thought I might write down names and start taking away five minute slots of recess. This stunk as these boys needed to be outside running. My other instinct was to start cracking heads but I quickly dismissed that one. And then the grace came as I tore the top off the marker. A little voice asked, “Are we going to play hang man?” Brilliant.

“Yes, we are. I have just the word.” I quickly drew the noose and made six spaces. By some miracle everyone quieted down, eager to be called on. It took some time to get the last letter “n” then the first letter, “r”. After a bit someone got the fifth letter “e”. After some misfires they went back to vowels and got the second letter, “o” and then it wasn’t long before someone guessed “t” to solve it, “rotten”.

“Can you guess why I thought of that word?” I asked.

“Because that’s what we are?” One suggested, which had been my truth when writing the spaces, but wasn’t anymore.

“No,” I was able to say without lying, “what would happen to your lunches if you left them on your desks and didn’t clear them away?”

We all knew they would be rotten.

We had time for one more game. I don’t remember the word; it was just a word and not a hateful barb. Soon they were free to go outside. In relative peace desks were cleared off quickly and I stood, a miracle of love because I had invited it in.

Preventive grace. I’m for it.

I love the lack of sophistication. I love if you tick one off she is going to let you know. I love the way they throw down their emotions but can be comforted by a snuggle with Mama and a blanket. I should get specific, I love my two year old’s still pudgy body, her sturdy legs. I love her funny little voice.

A story: I have this cross that a friend gave me. It is about 8 inches tall and silver. It doesn’t have a hanger or it would be hung above a door. In my former home it was propped on top a cupboard. In this one there isn’t a good spot as it is a bit tippy. My two year old glommed onto it. It soon found a home in one of her book baskets. One day I was making a tape of her to send to a cousin. I just sat and recorded her buzzing around the living room. She went and picked up her cross and then stood cradling it in front of the camera, an angelic look of devotion on her face. “Dis is ma cwoss”….blink blink….”Ah need to hit you wif it.” She raised the cross above her head and then wacked the camera. My cry of alarm is the last you hear before the tape stops.

It is fun hanging out with someone this spontaneous who is still small enough to throw in her crib when things get dangerous.

Strengthen the weak knees….

We have had company for a week, done spring cleaning, opened a pool, torn out shrubbery, shopped and cooked for armies, hosted extended relatives too and cared for three children all the while. My home is awash with books, toys, blocks, laundry – clean, spilling out of baskets and dirty piled on the floor.

It seems too much for one woman to bear let alone correct. But it must be done. I will tame this domestic wilderness. My husband and children will return home to find peace and comfort restored.

Grace, grace to me!

Remind me to tell you about lunch duty at my son’s school.