So I sit here still.
This place of rememberance. A place where God's truth, his power, his promise, rushes around and through me so fast and hard that I spin in love and joy...and yet...much of my Christmas sits in piles unfinished.
This room...a mess. But beautiful chaos I think. Lovely corners with things that wait. On a table, ruined by glue and paint and love sits three cut out hands and a box of remembrance. Each hand bigger than the other, three boys, three brothers who live in my heart...and the box...it's for Stella Grace.
And oh...the memories...
Little hands dripping with creek water held up in front of eyes of wonder wanting to show me the shiny treasures inside.
Three seasons of singing and swinging with baby boys on a porch in back.
Tummies that ache from too too many pears.
Chins stained and dripping with juice from sweet garden strawberries.
The miracle of Jude's blackberry bush.
Summer picnics on a blue blanket in grass with goldfish crackers on white plates.
Daughters who laugh and cry and sit and pray and read and wait.
Daughters who became mothers and aunts and friends.
A son who made a creek new with his father, who hung on the beams, bought me baby turkeys and swam with dogs on his back.
And a husband...who never stops...just makes it all beautiful for us.
Mountains and sunsets. Morning light and promise.
Goodness, and God and Glory
I plant memorial stones in this messy place. Deep deep in my heart.
I know. I remember. Life and death and truth and love. And the greatest of these....
And then Fall came...
And with God's very breath over this mountain He blew inspiration over me...
And so...I sand and spray and paint and make new and remember...
And I have faith for my pile of unfinished Christmas because there will be birthdays and weddings and babies and graduations and God stories...
May our lives be full of these...
And may we know that life and death, old made new, redemption, new life, and Jesus
Are What Matter.
