Hidden in the bench

We have a bench at our house. If you dare to open it, you'll find magic inside. There is a world hidden there that comes to life when little hands sneak in that brings joy and laughter, hours of fun and adventure. You can fly off to Neverland or find yourself in a hidden cave lit by pixie dust, or you can dig deeper and fly into unchartered space. This bench is magical. It can make all your dreams come true - it can make you a princess or a prince, a hero or a villain, a dancer or a firefighter.

But tonight, the bench is closed. Our imaginary friends tucked deep inside, laid to rest till dawn. And the bench transforms. It is for me, to kneel and trust, to watch and wait, to wrestle with head bowed and praise with arms lifted high. Tonight on this bench I meet the one who has made it all - all the adventures, big and small; all the highs and all the lows, and I'm thankful...

Thankful for the creativity of my children that teach me to live life fully, for another day in the comfort of a home, for the amazing grace that flows through the lips of my babes.

"What's one thing you like about Mom and what would you change?" I ask. Any adult would pause, think it through. Not so with a child.

"I wouldn't change anything about you Mom, you're the only Mom I have and I love you." the reply flows swiftly, gracious, merciful, a healing balm to a sinful soul.

"You wouldn't change that Mom gets angry?"...my sin ever so up close and personal.

"No, you get angry when I do something wrong and I say 'I'm sorry', and you say 'I forgive you'. I wouldn't change that."

Tonight, I'm thankful....that daily the Words of grace flow down to my heart and I get to drink deeply till the soul's content from the well that will never run dry.

Under my skin

Children laughing, playing, loving.

Children bickering, hurting, falling.

A clean house. The realtor might call so it must be in order for showing.

"It's not my house." Cleaning away nonetheless.

Juice spilling. Books off the shelves. Legos covering the rug. Chewed up carrot found it's new home on the train table. Peas went into the belly, the pod chewed up and spit out on the floor. Wait, that's a whole lot of pods under the coffee table.

A messy house. Mama's angry. Mama's not kind. Children feeling guilty for being children. Mama's wrong.

Mama's messy. Mama's bickering. Mama's hurting. Mama's falling.

Mama says 'sorry' to her babies. They love her anyways. Just like Jesus.

He's not asleep on the cushion...

The heart is anxious. "Breathe."

The room seems smaller. "I'm near."

Misunderstood...again. "I understand you."

Sometimes when it rains it pours, right? It's so easy to forget God's past faithfulness and get lost in the middle of the storm that's raging. Where is He? Sleeping on a cushion?

Sometimes He doesn't get up and say 'Peace, be still' to my raging storm, sometimes He says "Peace" to my heart. No, not sleeping. The room still feels small, the heart anxious. But I'm not alone...