With one knee on the floor and another perched like a chair, he sits. This has always been his seat of comfort - where I hold him close, rub his back and pray the Lord's protection and guidance over him.
He sleeps late today on a day off from school and I thank the Lord, for I know he needs the rest.
Unlike the usual morning's when he's wide eyed for the day and practically running to his dresser to get himself dressed - excited for the joys of the day - today he searches for me.
I can see it in his eyes, he wants his seat - to be close to my heart.
"This child has wrecked me to pieces," I said to my Gram yesterday. I tell her about the ah-ha moment I had last week while driving down the road - a moment of realization that God specifically intends to use children in the ministering of their parents - ministering healing, grace, mercy, love. Most especially, I think He uses children to save their parents from the grip of chains that entangle their heart from the *mixed up understanding of love* that their story has written before they entered the world.
God does the saving, but He uses the children so deliberately - with such purpose.
As I speak aloud of this revelation, I *see* that God has purpose for my life in my mother's life, and my father's life. And as difficult as it is sometimes to battle my expectations of them, that they should know better than me, or be wiser than me in certain aspects just because they are older, I finally see that He breathes fruit in me that provides nourishment - healing - that they can't get any other way than through their child. He uses me.
The truth of this is so clear and my heart breathes a sigh of understanding - Jesus, a babe, saved the world; a world older than He, yet a world that was saved from themselves by a Child.
My own brokenness, anger, fear, resentment, bitterness and controlling nature is aware of how the gentleness of my own babe - gentleness that only the Hand of God could have placed in him - has touched my heart and my soul in the most personal, deep and remarkable ways.
It's like God reaches into my chest each time this child sits on his comfort stool of my knee and massages my heart like only a surgeon would, making it come back to life and beat stronger and steadier.
Oh, to be that close to God. To search for His Son, and sit on His knee, have Him rub my back, caress my cheek, brush my hair with his gentle fingers and pray to the Father on my behalf. To have Him whisper sweet love in my ear and tell me I am more than some thing, I am some one - some one important, with meaning and depth of purpose.
Tremors have come over my body and I don't understand them. When stress of any form settles upon me, especially fatigue, the tremors become more pronounced. The things I do become almost impossible - nearly debilitating. I move slowly. Tentatively.
This morning I comment out loud that my body just isn't functioning today.
The boy-man, the child God created to shred me in pieces, he speaks with wisdom - "Give yourself a pep talk, Mama." And I know those are words he's heard someone else speak to him, perhaps a teacher. I am amazed at how wisdom seems to cement itself in this child's brain when he hears it spoken.
He goes on to tell me that he tries {to give himself a pep talk}, and "it doesn't seem to work."
I tell him it does work when your eyes are turned to God and your pep talk is a reminder of the Truth.
When we remind ourselves that *He gives us His strength*, we really can do all the things He's called us to do.
He's so close and I'm nearly at His chest, feeling it beat, as I ask Him for strength to prepare this morning's breakfast, and He does provide that which I need at the moment. The strength to provide. The strength to teach. The strength to find Him.
God provides our strength and He provides our freedom...He provides love and He provides salvation...
...Even through the littlest of these.
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