There's so much that is worthy of my attention--immediate family, extended family, quiet time fodder, eccentricities of the day, the latest Democratic dance... They range from whisperings to outright screechings. I'm sure you can relate. These all seem so awfully important as they rear their heads.
"Gather the people together to Me and I will make them hear My words, that they may learn reverently to fear Me all the days they live upon the earth and that they may teach their children," (Deut. 4:10). These are the words that I want to want to heed wholeheartedly.
My children are my Achilles. Do or say what you will to me, but watch well what you direct toward my kids. I have antennae alert, the initiation of which I am not aware. Defenses arise, and I am not even alert to them until the threat has passed, is defused, or deemed impotent. Always I wish this vulnerability was not so great. I wish I could sip a lattè while lackadaisically pointing out varied and sundry weak spots in my world and the people who comprise it as if it didn't matter. Alas, I am not made of such strong stuff.
I am made of the most fragile chiffon. If soul was a tangible element, I might be cotton candy--reduced to pink sugar syrup at the introduction of enemy moisture. Afar, I might appear hefty and extensive and well-connected. But is anyone all that...?
When people validate you as kind and thoughtful and "wonderful"--what happens inside? Do you scramble to justify all that? I do. When time goes on and I remember what I really am, I pray. Hard. I want to fling off all that's not truly me and put on Christ so that I can be so. much. more. of that wonderfulness. I scramble to make it about Him and not me because I always make everything about me, even when I'm trying to make it about anything else. Ultimately I want to hear, and learn reverently to fear, and to have my children hear--and obey, and abide.
Doesn't seem like this is as connected and relevant as I intended at the start, but that's how it usually goes. I hear or see or think something and believe it's blogworthy. And so it might be in the right hands. Seems my hands are elsewhere. I am content. That's worth something, right?