You are so precious and I’m so very glad that you are in our family. We are the lucky ones. . .even if you did offer to kill our cat.
(Caleb says hi!)
I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few days. About my faith, about my son, and also about how much our lives have changed in the last few months. I wonder if Caleb feels safe? Does he feel loved? Does he know that he is precious? I hope as I try my best to provide those things that he is beginning to grasp them. I think he knows I love him and I can feel he loves me back. What a magnificent feeling.
I had a conversation this time last week with a precious friend who said she felt like God was taking her through a lenten season and we talked about the blessed day of resurrection, the once and for all day where Jesus claimed us as his own. Bought with a price. Forever and ever we are loved. Forever and ever we are redeemed. We ARE His beloved. This friend also shared that they are waiting for the Easter day to come in their own journey. The more I thought about that conversation the more I realized that in my own life I’ve spent a great deal of time waiting for my Easter day. For the day when I’m made whole and complete. The day when I’m restored and the day when my sentences get periods. Endings.
But then I realized. . .Easter Sunday was just the beginning. It wasn’t the end at all, though it was an integral part, there is much much more to this story, this Restoration of us, of humanity, of the Earth. There is still much, much more to be done. The bride is still preparing and the bride groom still patiently waiting. Though through all the waiting, He is still loving her. He is still gently whispering in the wind, “Come to me. I’m waiting for you. I love you.”
A dear friend recited this poem at lunch the other day. Poetry and lunch are not usually something that go together in my world, so it was a little breath-taking to have them merge in such a seamless way. It was a very precious moment and I hope I remember it for a very long time.
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!
–Rudyard Kipling
Note to self: Memorize poetry with Caleb. More specifically, memorize THIS poem with Caleb.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
“We can do no great things,
only small things with great love.”
-Mother Teresa
Photo by Studio A Photography
wouldn’t trade it for a million bucks.
Photos by Studio A Photography
