LITTLES

                                                                     

       New and perfect skin, soft and delicate.  Tiny toes and fingers .   Little noses and rosy cheeks.  The miniature ears that look like petals on a flower.  And the soft, minky, scarce hair that beckons you to stroke and calm.  Eyes that do not focus yet, but make you long for their fixed stare.  All this tiny joy fits in your forearm and under your chin.  The tiny life evokes a fierce protective warrior in all who come near, and whispers "careful, gentle"  while you hold.  Slight cries melt even the hardest hearts.   Vulnerable, complex body inspires deep thoughts of life origins and creative power.  And somehow the tininess makes you want to give everything to them.  Their utter dependence stirs love and steadfast spirits.  Who does not wait to  see a strong  father tenderly coddle the weakest and tiniest among us?  And somehow the contrast of his strength and her vulnerable size melt our hearts.  It is why we take pictures of each minuscule feature and  stare too long at the marvel of the new life before us.  We must seem so slight and vulnerable to God.  And He too must feel the protective warrior.  His strong father affection for us spurred Him to give himself for us.  We long to see this vulnerable small soul grow to independent pillar and coos of wonder turn to declarations of faith.  The tiny fist that does not go yet where little soft bundle wills it to go, we pray will be raised in confidence of Father's love. Our tiny package is born dependent and must learn independence but we are born independent in spirit and must learn dependence.  For this He yearns as He holds us in his large hands and lifts us to his cheek, our tiny soul, evoking love.  This baby a picture of something greater and deeper.

I led them with cords of human kindness, with ties of love. To them I was like one who lifts a little child to the cheek, and I bent down to feed them.  Hosea 11:4

2016

PRESSING

I remember the weight of the press that clamped me down and brought me to the brink of despair.  It was in relationships that fail and hopes that die and people who hurt.  It was in the failure of my heart and the call to courage that I did not answer. It came in the carnage of lives I love and dream for.  The weight of the press was constant and thorough.  It paralyzed my mind and made me want to sleep.  It perplexed me and I could not think to find my path and see my way to truth.  The straight path looked crooked and confusing.  I could find relief in temporary things and fleeting joy in eternal, but always I led back to the pressure and the trap.  Friends could help and make truth clear, pressure bearable and hope clarified but the press was working still.  Bitterness kept me there and comforted my natural stone heart at the same time that it challenged my supernatural heart of flesh.  Spirit faltered but hung on, so I was not crushed.  My despair was intermittent and so I was not without hope.  But overcoming seemed a dream and faith a constant choice.  I was not destroyed though I yearn for heaven to come and release me from this place. And in this I am being made to know His suffering and His victory even while the press was hard and long and I wait for hope.

     I don't feel the pain of the press so strongly now, but remember it well.  I know the press may come again because the work is not done, but I also see the dark is temporary and the pain is necessary.  Lord let me be without the crushing weight of emotional and spiritual struggle as long as you can, and still do the work in me. 

 We are pressed on all sides, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.  2 Cor 4:8-10

 And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. Ez. 36:26