Nourishment of Time

"Will you play darts with me, Mom?" Gabe asks. "When we get home?"

We're taking a family walk along the river. The sun is sinking low. The streets are quiet. All is still.
But this simple question makes me a little anxious inside.

"I'd love to, Gabe," I say.

And I would. But there's a scroll of "to do's" running through my mind. I feel pressed tight. I don't like to feel this way. I feel guilty. But chores and needs and a houseful of busy cages my heart.

We finish our walk and I shimmy a game of darts between the unwashed dinner dishes and the bedtime routine.

It doesn't take me long to be happy that I did.

"You're good at darts, Mom!" Gabe says. His bangs are falling to the side and I can see that his eyes are gleaming joy. We're in the room behind the garage. Just Gabe, June heat, and me.

"I'm not very good," I say. "But I like this. And love I our time together."

Gabe smiles and plucks my darts from the outer ring of the dartboard (and one from the wall).

I feel satisfied. Fulfilled. Glad that I took the time to nourish this relationship that is precious to me.

It makes me think of my relationship with God. I love Him. I need Him. My relationship with Him is the most important in my life. But I fear that so often in the "busy", time with Him gets pushed aside. Or even  pushed away.

Jesus took time away to spend time with the Father. He went to quiet places to pray. He separated out. Went alone. Like before he called his disciples. And when he heard about John. In the garden of Gethsemane, too. Jesus spent his limited hours to connect with Father God.

Relationships need the nourishment of time.

They need set-apart, focused attention.

When we pull away from the pressure,   precious things unfold.

And I want to follow Jesus' example.

Gabe squints an eye, curls his fingers around the dart, and lines it even with his ear.

Then he stretches his arm and lets the dart fly.

I watch it swish through the air and smack on the board.

Twenty points.

Double.

Not bad.

I think about this time set-apart time to grow my relationship with my little boy.  I've definitely scored here.

But tomorrow morning's set-aside time with my Father?

That will be a bull's-eye for sure.
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Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed. Mark 1:35

One of those days Jesus went out to a mountainside to pray, and spent the night praying to God.
Luke 6:12

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray." Matthew 26:36

Rejoice And Be Glad - A Morning Song

I'm flying down the road. Late. As usual. It's seven-thirty in the morning. I'm wondering if I was half mad when I scheduled this appointment because I can't imagine willingly arranging to have my mouth probed at this time of the day.

Green digital numbers remind me that I overslept. I don't like to be late. I feel like I'm stealing the dentist's time.

There's a string of traffic in front of me. It slows. Stops. And I understand that we're going to wait for a train. The blasted train that moves at a death-crawl. The train that inches over the tracks and then goes into reverse for some hitching process.

The train that takes six or seven minutes to complete its business.

So I sit, fingers laced tight, my head running a crazy clip of the rest of my day. Places to go. Things to accomplish. To-dos that stretch far and wide. It brings a rope of stress. It tangles around me and feels altogether too tight.

And then I see him.

This man.

He's walking down the sidewalk. He's lanky. Thin. Tall. He's moving in a motion of gangly appendages. But there's a bounce in his step. He looks light. His arms are swinging. His legs are moving. He's carrying a cooler and he's dressed in washed out blue.

But what grabs my attention the most is his mouth. It's opening. Closing.

This man is singing out loud.

I want to roll down my window to hear, but his song would be covered by the clatter of the train.

I wonder where he's going. To work, most likely. I wonder what he's singing. I'm drawn in as he throws his head back and sings.

And suddenly I don't care what he's singing.

I only know that I want to sing, too.

It's a beautiful day. Crisp and clear. The sun is still strong. It's warm - a gentle spring heat. Not-too-humid. The day is fresh, ready to be unwrapped. Unrolled. There are people to love and kindnesses to be shared. God's love to be enjoyed and reveled in.

This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24 ESV

The man continues down the sidewalk that ribbons along the road. The train finishes its hitching thing and traffic begins to move.

I'll probably be late for my appointment. I'll apologize.

But as I step on the gas, I notice that my hands aren't gripping the wheel in white-knuckled anxiousness anymore. The knot of stress, the tangles of troubles and time, have relaxed.

I press forward toward my day. Toward the good things that await.

And I drive along, I begin to sing.

Sweet, Small Stuff

Hi dear friends,

Hope this finds you warm, blessed,  with end-of-summer sun on your shoulders...

I'm posting over at Sozowomen today - another gentle in-the-van moment with Isaiah. Precious - how children can help open our eyes to God's wonderful things.

Here's the link. Thanks for hopping over and joining me there.

Sweet, Small Stuff

Monday blessings.

See you on Thurs!

With love,
Shawnelle

Learning to Seek Sweet Rest - Part I

I'm a little scrambled inside.

I stand near the fridge and look at calendar squares for the upcoming week, and it's hard to find rest.

It's hard to imagine rest.

The squares all hold good things. Very good things. Some of the days hold things I'm very much looking forward to. Other squares hold blessing, like lessons and visits to the doctor and activities for the boys we're fortunate to have. But sometimes the goodness stacks up and I feel a bit unglued. There are unwritten things, too. Like going to the gym every day with Grant. The bike rides I want to take with Samuel. The summer school schedule I laid down like law and haven't given a good flirt.

And that's when I see him.

I walk away from the calendar, from the pressure and commitment and the guilt of grumbling about a good-n-plenty life, and I walk into my bedroom.  And on my bed I find my small, sleeping son.

The house is charged with life. There's energy and activity and sound. I hear some of the boys in the pool outside. Another is upstairs playing music way too loud. The kitchen door opens and slams shut.

And he slumbers still.

I sit on the bed for a moment. I admire this sought-out peace. Zay's face is smooth. No lines of worry. No creased forehead. No furrowed brow. His breath is soft and slow. It's a lullaby, a song I want to know. He's wrapped in Mine-O-Mine - his faithful blanket friend. And he pulls me in. I can't resist.
I curl around him. I want this peace to be mine.

Zay shifts and I slide my arm around him. He's curved into me. I close my eyes and fall into his rhythm.

And I understand what's happened. This boy has found rest. It didn't come to seek him. The fast-spinning way of life didn't stop. But he rests in spite of it. He rests in the midst of it. He's found a way to find sweet rest.

I want to find sweet rest, too. Not the curl-up-and-sleep kind of rest. I want to find the kind of rest that brings peace when commitment and needs and busy piles high. The kind of peace that stills my heart and steadies my soul when life breaks loose and runs wild.The kind of rest that makes me slow enough to see His presence, still enough to hear Him, quiet enough to know Him when the days just move too fast.

Zay rolls over. His head tips and rests under my chin. Now his brown arm rests over me. I need to get up and chip away at the day.

But I'll take just a moment.

In a wild season of life, I'm learning to seek and receive rest.

Lord, help me to find rest, the kind of  sweet rest that You offer....Amen.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28