So…this happened a few years back…hope I’ve come to my senses about many things…

Anyway, here we go:

You walk into the room and all of a sudden my psyche reverts to the mentality of a highschool snob.  I am 29, but your choice of clothes and hairdo – though you are my age – is so old fashioned and dowdy and for some reason I decide that your mind and worth is likewise…beneath me.

We haven’t seen eachother for years, so due to good manners I enquire about your well-being, the trip you took a while ago…and then the emotions in my heart and mind start raging against each other.

When did I become this person…this judging, snobbish, blind person.  Blind at the true value of a person’s life.  I pride myself in working for a good cause and dreaming about starting a charity…but I don’t have a sense of the worth of the person right next to me.

Thank you dear person.  Thank you for letting me fall flat on my face and realizing that my inner being still needs some adjustment…that I have not arrived…that I still have some way to go.

Because as you started talking, the trip you went on took up the story of an outreach going to people who have not been as privileged to have things, to know God…as I have been all my life.  I realize you are greatly nearer to your purpose of  being a dynamic part of God’s body than I am.You are so humble about the tasks you took up in another country in a rural community; wondering if you prayed enough and whether it was good enough. It was not good enough…it was awesome!!! You are awesome…and forgive me for seeing you in any other light than that!!

I remember a moment I had with God a while back..just being…and  a thought ran through my mind: “You are bigger than your father, you are smaller than your mother.”

My mother: the person who puts everyone before her, who would hate to hurt anyone, who never thinks of herself…but thinks so highly of everyone around her. I think she gets it: how to love God’s creations as they should be loved; with no judgment or insults in her eyes…ever.  Because she sees them through His eyes, not her own.

My dad and I: the logical, dynamic, organized individuals who are critical about people and situations…who know so much about so many things…but forget how little it is worth sometimes.

Yes, my mother is truly taller than most people in her vicinity, though she is such a short little person.  Her pure love and regard for people lifts her person up above that of our society which puts people in boxes according to their whims. Think about the worth of the heart, the mind, the love, the care, the help…locked up in each one of us.  And that is what life is actually about.  That is what we crave in times of trouble, when we are forced to look at life honestly.

Thank you for this lesson.  Thank you for helping me to see the world a little more through His eyes, instead of my own.

John 15:12

My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.

I am driving home in a total state of crashing down.

I have just had a meltdown during an important meeting.  Earlier today everything just went South, resulting in me being late…unprepared…emotional…and basically having a nervous breakdown.  It has been a long time coming…7 years maybe.

7 years of not creating healthy boundaries, of being everyone’s go-to-girl and not being able to say NO.

So I brought it on myself and so I just increase the misery of the moment and the blueness of the day by now berating myself with guilt for creating this.

I call friends. Any friends. To unload…to hear if I’m really the failure that I feel, or is there a small glimmer of hope that I might not be SO bad…at my job…at being human…at being me.

I realise I am quite near to the offramp near one of my best friend’s homes.  I call…I invite myself… That’s what good friends allow you to do.

I get there first and then then her red car drives in.

I wanted to see her: draw from her strength and insight…her hug…coffee…common sense…experience.

BUT

From the passenger window a small face appears.

Blonde

BLUE eyes

He impatiently leans out of the window…to see me…to greet me.

Yelling my name…immediately starting to babble about his day.  He wants to talk to me…share his day…his moment…this moment with me.

And the content of MY moment…DISAPPEARS.

Its just not worth it.  Its not worth ruining the perfection of an innocent’s love.  Its not worth missing out on the attention of a loving child.

Because that is what I feel…loved – accepted – enough!

The perfect channel of all that is good and Godly: a child communicating your worth by demanding your attention and time.

For that moment (though tears and frustration will return and be dealt with after I have received this gift of healing love) all that matters is his story…and what I feel is JOY.

How powerful a tool a small child is in God’s hand to help in turning around situations.

How powerful a Blue-eyed boy is to turn a blue Monday…into Sapphire…to be remembered.

Thank you little one.  Once again you saved the day.

It rained.

A lot

We have all been praying for rain and now our gardens were joyously watered…and MUDDY.

I visit my friend with her angelic blonde-haired boy and he excitedly gives me a tour outside the house of everything that I have seen countless times before.  With him though, it is always interesting and seeing it through his eyes, there is always something new to enjoy.

Ripe raspberries on the tree.

The pet-pig and pet-bunny’s cage.

The trampoline which I have jumped on countless times (Note: I am VERY unfit)

His mother and I have coffee like grown-ups tend to do.  Orderly, clean and planned.

Little Man is up and about though: still showing off his new toys and running around excitedly.

In due time, Little Man is quite covered in mud: Hands, feet, a smudge on his face.  Typically…Boy.

Then its time for me to leave though I am always sad to go away from this family and this Little Man who always brightens up any day…and even more so a sad day (as today was).

He charges at me for a hug and his mother puts out a hand to keep my clothes from being soiled by the oh-so-brown little hands.

BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER.

I would love to have a stain of proof on me, that this little one was part of my day.  The brown would be worn with pride at having his love and attention even for a short while. It would be a stamp of his approval…his love, acceptance and attention. He brings me peace and showers me with his joy.

And then I realise:

Why do I worry what I bring with me when I speak to God?

Why do I feel that I have to have the perfect mindset and words and actions to be acceptable to relate to Him?

What I feel for Little Man is astounding love and joy, and so his attire or his cleanliness does not matter a smidge.

So my smudges doesn’t bother Him a smidge.

He invites them…

Maybe He takes joy in the fact that in my moments of ineptitude I have the boldness to turn TO Him instead of away from Him.  The stain of mud on His hand where I boldly grabbed hold of it in my moment of weakness might bring Him joy for the fact that I go in search of help in the right place.

Just a thought…to me: a new-found truth

With my head on your chest

I want to debate the constellations

The creations

The lives lived and living

Your palm against mine

There are joys to relive

Thoughts to be shared

Opinions given

Your eyes above mine

Staring into mine

Safety to be gained

Love granted and care taking

You, next to me

Contentment reigning

Happiness gaining

Dissipating life-long longing

You