Regina He was grasping at the spoon and everything else. Those little fingers I know so well, the youngest. The love of jelly rolls and chunky legs and the sweetest of unintelligible coos that seem bound in love. Already an explorer, even a friend, his little eyes meet with the girl, her hair all wound in curly perfection. He smiles. The eldest, a wild lad, plays & plays trying with all his might to make the chubby-bubby erupt in laughter, success rate, 99.9%, the love of brothers growing deep.
I am all wrapped up in them and they in me, this purifying concoction of sanctification poured out, laced with grace, rampant with love, flowing from the Trinity. It is the call, wife and mom, Titus 2. The love of husband and children is always found in a wise woman. Even if she is single the same is true. She is ever faithful to her Betrothed (King Jesus) and loves attentively her own ‘true children in the faith.’ Let us make it our prayer to be so.
The day presses, sleep escapes, laundry mounds, words fly thoughtlessly. Kids thrash wildly, a tantrum or two or lost count. What holds it all together? Plates are spinning and each moment of my days is spent grasping to get it all done, so it doesn’t stop spinning and break. A little like that youngest I am, grasping at things.
Then enter Christ Jesus. Then recall the rest. The rest offered. The cease striving. Stop trying, grace of the day. Clouds dance impossibly beautiful across blue colored skies. Autumn’s smell hangs in the air. Balls fly across the sky, smacked far by the eldest boy. He runs, with happiness enough to share. And I do share in it, drink it in. Wonder at these moments laced with grace. Filled with awe, humbled, inspired to live. Life isn’t grasping at a to-do list. It’s not checking off boxes and just moving on to the next thing. Life is grasping for a glimpse of Christ Jesus. Then realizing in the same turn that we don’t need to beat at the air, He is already there. And the moment our hand reaches out, He has it and everything else.
