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The shelter of the Most High



An infant cry rips my consciousness out of a dead sleep. Tiny cheeks snuggle into my neck, rubbing boogers and slobber lovingly into my hair. Her sweaty, tired body relaxes again into rest, and mine lays still to savor the quiet. I ponder... to take her back to her own crib, or sacrifice depth of sleep to keep her still and near... This little person that can't yet say my name KNOWS me, even in her sleep. When her eyes open they are deep, beautiful, vibrant. Every part of her petite body smiles along with her eyes and lips. She is tiny and captivating.

Warm and wiggly on my lap, blonde hair breathes against my chest for a moment. His frame is so solid, his hands are wide and his eyes big and round and blue. His jammies stretch to fit his sweaty, growing body, and without fail smell like little-boy pee. His voice is too loud, and his heart is so, so big. He has dirt under his fingernails, wipes jam from his lips to my sleeve. In between busy, volumous times I catch him still, engulfed, watching his brother. He is eager to pray, quick to join his voice in each song. He is gentle and big, inside and out.

Those eyes search my soul with each question and request. He looks deep for my spirit, my will. The life and energy burst out of his whole body, keeping his heart and his muscles moving, always moving. He is sharp, drinking in scholarly and spiritual knowledge. He loves to run, to laugh, to ask deep questions, to swim in music. He surprises me with each new thing he can accomplish- my heart doesn't  claim to even be close to staying caught up. More and more the vibrant, busy toddler fades, as I become overwhelmed with the foreshadows of a deep, tall man, called to be a pillar of God.

My heart aches and groans with the growing pains of child-rearing. Waves of unshakeable affection are mixed with yesterday's irritations. I feel the pushing and pressing of boundaries, and I push and press back, aiming toward men and women of God, knowing who they are and why they are here, and Who made them. I feel the friction changing me, shaping me. In my three-and-a-half minutes of distracted "alone" time, I search for God and ask Him to wash me clean of the residue that repeated "training" leaves on my heart. Walk ever close to me and restore my heart, O God, daily. Shoulder in to this monumentous task with me. I praise You that Your mercies are new every morning- even if mine are not.

Psalm 91

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
    will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.[a]
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
    my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely he will save you
    from the fowler’s snare
    and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
    and under his wings you will find refuge;
    his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
    nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
    nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
    ten thousand at your right hand,
    but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
    and see the punishment of the wicked.
If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,”
    and you make the Most High your dwelling,
10 no harm will overtake you,
    no disaster will come near your tent.
11 For he will command his angels concerning you
    to guard you in all your ways;
12 they will lift you up in their hands,
    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
13 You will tread on the lion and the cobra;
    you will trample the great lion and the serpent.
14 “Because he[b] loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
    I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
15 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
    I will be with him in trouble,
    I will deliver him and honor him.
16 With long life I will satisfy him
    and show him my salvation.”

Footnote: I don't consider the "harm" and "disaster" in this psalm to be my children! As I read this, the protection I desire is not protection from the hard parts of raising kids... I desire protection from the enemy who wants to use our culture to tell us that children are an inconvenience, who wants to whisper discouragement, short-cuts and failure so that we don't fully embrace raising our little warriors, or remember to pray deeply for our kids. 

Nestle in, Momma, to the shelter of the Most High...

Comments

  1. So deep, the Father's love for us. He DOES wash us. His mercies ARE new every morning. He is the STRONGEST & BEST shelter from the storm. Our children are one of the most WONDER-FILLED gifts we will ever receive! They are NOT a burden or an inconvenience! They are a JOY! They are created in HIS image, whether we planned them or not. There are NO accidental babies!

    I consider it a JOY to 'mama' alongside of you! I love that you are a prayer warrior. I love your deep, intentional way of parenting, friending, wife-ing - - LIVING. I love you, friend. <3

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