This morning I hear Jackson waking and he calls from upstairs. Usually, I hear "Momma come and get me." This morning it is something different. I can't understand what he's saying and so I ask him to repeat himself. He complies but I still can't make out the words.
I walk slowly up the stairs into the darkness, fully prepared to collect him and bring him back down. When I make it to the top, I ask him what he needs, pretending as if I don't know. He returns a long drawn out "nu-u-uffin." He pauses and then says, "Can you do me a favor?" Surprised by his request I say "Sure son, what is it?" He replies with "Lay with me for a few minutes." I chuckle at his cleverness.
Part of me wants to talk him into coming back down with me so that I can continue what I was doing. Instead, I crawl into bed and find him between the mounds of blankets and pillows. As I lay my head down, I feel his arm sweep me into a sloppy headlock. His way of knowing if and when I try to escape. haha. As much as I love being with him, something else calls... Still it does my heart good to stop, wait and touch him. I note the details of his skin and shape and size. Although I can't see him.
Even at this early hour, I am humored at the God-incidence of his timing. As it turns out, I am actually playing hookie today to go to the beach alone. -It's the first time I've done so in years. I've taken the day off before plenty of times but I usually fill it with errands, chores or a more
controlled chaos. Some recent events are making me -
forcing me to come to a screeching halt.
In this moment, I recognize that a similar reward awaits my willingness to submit again later in the day.
The tasks downstairs are just one of those ways that I cling to my Jesus while I search for answers. Fervently reading scripture trying to stuff every nook and cranny with his word, a hint, a moment of prayer. ...In every drop of quiet time that I have. I want nothing more in my life than to be the Godly, faith-filled woman [wife, mother, daughter, etc.] that he designed.
Challenging myself with NEW and MORE- It's as much something that I love and can't get enough of as it is maybe an
obsession. Just as the work of it calls me from being still with my son. It competes for the time that I actually spend resting with our Father. Because while he calls me to be still,
I am filling the stillness.
A day at the beach doing nothing seems so wasteful when there are so many things that need doing while I am able. I think of books I can read, posts to finish, lists to write and letters to send. Then I remind myself that my only assignment today is
not having assignments.
Fast forward
I go to the beach and collect shells. I admire clouds and practice floating while listening to the sound of the ocean floor. Back on the sand, I allow myself to doze without worry. To my surprise, I am never bored or restless. I flinch at all of the things that
work might disguise or invite to tag along.
I think about building faith. Learning to focusing on "
anything good" and replacing old habits with new ones like prayer, study, service and meditation. But
holding so fast that we cling
to them. It reminds me of being white knuckled on a roller coaster as a child. I gripped the bar to keep from sliding. Sometimes we "cling to Jesus" or the rituals that lead us to him because we're afraid we might return to old habits or places; Or for the fear that if we let go it may lead us to stagnation.
Yet even as all of those
things are good, holy and
fruitful.
They cannot replace the time we actually spend with him.
The truth in that sentiment keeps surfacing but I just keep sweeping it aside. A pile accumulates like a dune of sand or a mound in the darkness. It blocks my view and makes finding him similar to my earlier experience with my son. I know he's here and I hear him calling.
But I-
...am worn out.
I fall to my knees. One by one, my elbows crawl into the sand, stretching out into a position of stillness. Finally prostrate. I have surrendered. It is then that I realize when I cling to him so tightly; I never let go so that I can trust whether or not he's the one that's really holding me.
My
soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me. -Psalm 63:8
