Balance

I find myself in the space between a wind tunnel and a vacuum. There is so much life happening, represented by air waves flowing through the sieve.

The deep cavern in my heart is longing to be filled more and more, and to belong. I’m celebrating my oldest son’s sixth birthday today and tomorrow. I gave him some screen time while my husband and I were prepping things for his party tomorrow. He chose to listen to some worship music. I am grateful the seeds I’m quietly sowing are bearing some fruit. I’m not bragging. Daily, I’m brought to my knees for some reason or another in motherhood. This same child asks me, every night, to worship God with him.

God has used this time to hold me accountable to praising Him. He also gives me a chance to speak into Micah’s life. We can have deep and uninterrupted conversations. Micah has been wanting to listen to the names of God lately. So we do. But then I get to remind Micah that the same God created him. I asked Micah if he knew what God thought of him. He said “He thinks I’m sick.” I asked Micah, “Sick as in awesome, or sick as in blechhh?” He giggled and said “the first one!” I hope my children feel this way their whole lives.

We don’t win God’s approval by being right, or perfect. We talk a lot in our home about being righteous before God, meaning that we are won over to His ways, wanting to be like Him, and repenting of our sins. When we pray at night, I ask God to forgive me for my sins. I ask God to forgive my children for their sins.

My son is still learning how to pray. I help him by talking him through a framework. You can use it too. It goes like this “Praise God – tell Him what you think of Him. Tell God what you’re thankful for. (Pause for your child to answer in-between each thing). Is there anything you need to say sorry about? (Pause.) Do you need God’s help for anything? (Pause.) Who else needs some prayer?” (Pause.) NOTE: When I’m praying out loud with my oldest son, my prayer follows the same framework so he can hear it too.

When my kids are two, they repeat after me “Dear Jesus, thank you for today. Help me love you and other people better. Amen.”

At three, they are saying what they are thankful for also. And we build from there.

I was talking with a neighbor yesterday about how I want my kids used to a pace of life in which they can accomplish much, but also stop to smell the roses, so to speak. I don’t want us running. I want us to sit down to family meals together. And have time to clean up after dinner, to soak in good books, and have time to pray and worship at night without hurry to get to sleep to meet a super-early next day. I want my children to soak in the Word and to find truth beyond the world, to be able to slice through modern philosophy and know reality based on what they can’t see with their eyes.

So now let me come back to the cavern in my heart. As a non-native Californian who is far in distance from family, birthdays have a sadness to them for me. For my son, I hope he’s filled to the brim with love. But I know who he misses too. And I’m not lacking love whatsoever, but I definitely know who I’m missing.

But in that space between a vacuum and a wind tunnel, the Almighty is calling my name. And I feel the greatest depth of belonging there. There is no cavern He leaves empty. There is no hole He doesn’t fill. I have deep and eternal significance with my Creator. And I hope this is the same endless acceptance and approval my children and husband and family and friends feel their whole lives too. There is no greater feeling than that. And this love exists beyond death. Love is stronger than death.

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