Listening to one of my favorite song sets - lots of genres, lots of everything - all of it gorgeous in blended notes and in lyrics. Tucked in among the wonderful for this past week and the one to come, there's this...
"The wisest men still find their way
by the light He gives from day to day
and the strength that's found in knowing
that He came to earth to save.
Sometimes life can be so hard
but there's always rest inside his arms...
The wisest men still find their way to Jesus."
Oh, to be wise enough to never, ever stop seeking Him. For the strength to stand and stand and stand again. To love greatly in what seem like the tiniest things that really are the gigantic things. In the days when what I am and what I do seems like so much less than enough. For the gift of remembering to refocus and fix my eyes on forever with Him and not to leave anyone behind for my not having shared. For the grace and mercy of having a heart of flesh, squishy to the point that joy and sorrow flow freely down my face for all to see. Always with the thankful things set before me, so that I do not lose my way in selfish, vain, discontented wandering.
And that in seeking, I am not the only one who comes to see the King ♥
With a hug to Carl Cartee. Quote from his song, "The Wisest Men"
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Thursday, April 5, 2018
So, I gathered a yummy cup of coffee and my current read and found a rocker on the front porch. This weather is deliciously springtime, crisp and cool and life-giving, isn't it? I had just sat down and opened my book when M & S came around the corner by the big camellia chirp-chirping in their own special sibling speak and having a marvelous time. Can you guess my reaction? It was UGH! Another huge indicator that the time I was taking to breathe was urgently needed.
I spoke to them gently, told them I loved them to pieces and particles, and asked could they please be off around the house, because my mom-radar was going off every time I heard their voices. They grinned and said, "Sure, Mom!" and trooped away giggling.
Perhaps it was fifteen minutes total, then, that I spent out there rocking and reading (even turning on the porch light for the last couple of paragraphs so I could finish my chapter). And then I stood there by the porch railing watching as the day gave way to night, a beautiful quiet fare-welling that I would have missed had I not taken the time to step away.
I am unspeakably grateful for the Father's encouragement to step outside and see, and to read and see, and to look inside and see, and to look up and see. A hint, a tiny glimpse of His perspective was just what was so sorely needed. What a joy now to head away from this spot of recording the joy -- into the joy of reading aloud to my sweetlings.
So very thankful ♥