...you have dreamed my future

You, you my solid center and my shelter,
because of your nature
lead me, urge me on.
I am entangled;
be my rescue and my refuge.
My spirit flies to your safekeeping;
you have dreamed my future,
Ever-Presence.
---Psalm 31:3-5 (para. laca)

There is a kind of parent I dream of being. It's the fierce mother bear when I need to be, hackles up when there is no doubt about the danger around. It's the sage teacher, asking the right questions at the right times. The cheerleader on the sidelines, my kids' biggest fan. The safe place to fall, when life does what life does. And most of all, I'd like to be the parent that dreams my child's future. I'd like to look into her newborn eyes, his infant face, and see past the hurt and disappointment sure to line life's pathway; and I'd like to dream a future that redeems all of that for them, a future that makes costly sense of the suffering that might come. I'd like to be the parent who could plant that dream of the future in my child, to instill in her the knowledge that she is valued, that he is bought and paid for.

Because knowing you are redeemed? That kind of dream sets you free.

Peace...and quiet

The Lord bless you and keep you,
the Lord's face shine upon you,
Lord be gracious to you;
the Lord's countenance shine upon you,
and give you peace. And quiet.
---Isaiah 6:24-26, and Abby

If you have been a parent of several children who are all very young at once, you will know the feeling --- that sensation of never quite catching up, or settling down, or, you know, breathing. There is always something you didn't do, or something huge you've potentially dropped off the radar entirely. The physical exhaustion is hard to describe, and the mental contest of comparing the job you are doing to that of your closest friends and family also raising families is cruel and useless.
Into that kind of life, we could all use a little peace. At the end of each long day, full of joy, and wonder, and tears, and frustration, and fun, I would stand in the room where my three very young children lay, readying for what I fervently prayed would be a good night's sleep. I laid my hand on each head in turn, a blonde, a dark brunette, and a wispy dishwater, and prayed this blessing for these children who were surely the best part of me. And , showing that no careless comment goes unheard during the rest of the day, my observant middle child decided that the good Lord would, in all wisdom, give peace and quiet. Perfect. My first thought would have bee written in sarcasm font --- no scripture goes untwisted. But then. But then...I thought, perfect (remove sarcasm font). I had blessed my children, and Abby had returned the blessing to me. She had added the word she believed would make that blessing perfect in my life, in that moment. Perfect. and Blessed.
You know, sometimes peace comes quiet. Sometimes it come raucous. Sometimes peace comes suddenly, more often after long toil. Sometimes peace comes completely, sometimes ragtag and partial.
In this holy season, peace comes both beginning and achieved --- in a Babe.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...