Following and Abiding

… because He said to

Archive for the tag “fiveminutefriday”



I had an ordinary day yesterday. I hit the snooze button 3x because I was listening to my boys get their own breakfast and chit chat over pancakes and get their laundry out of the dryer and it was just too wonderful to interrupt. And I was lazy. I made dinner early and felt awesome. I spent an hour alone with my oldest child, listening to him talk about computer programs and gaming strategies. I went to my friend’s house and curled up on her couch and she listened to me spew out my frustrations and successes without interruption. I watched grown adults pelt kids with dodge balls. I had a heated argument with a fourteen-year-old over socks. Socks. I fed the dogs, fed the dishwasher, fed the dryer, fed my family. How blessed I am that these things are ordinary and how shameful that I consider many of them a burden.







Things have changed since my beloved’s were babies, toddlers, seven-year-olds. I used to watch their drowsy, chubby baby cheeks and feel like my heart was going to ooze right out of my body. I used catch them singing to Bear In the Big Blue House and pile bath bubbles in a cup and I’d strap them into their car seats thinking it was going to last forever.

Now they scoff at Nick Jr. and take too long in the shower and fight over the front seat.

They are still my beloved’s. When I see her laughing with a group of trendy-dressed school friends, their heads tossed back in utter hilariousness, my heart swells. I’m clearly not the only one who thoroughly. She shuts her door when she gets a phone call then tells a friend she can’t come over because she’s hanging out with her mom. I want it to last forever.

He is hunched over in front of his laptop, mouse button clicking, fingers effortlessly finding the right keys, click, click, click. He is in his own world where numbers and objects replace unnecessary words and I relax in knowing that he doesn’t have to interact with someone if he doesn’t want to. I give him his space, and I know it’s a sacrifice that translates as love. He excitedly tells me about a computer program and I barely grasp what he is saying because my brain doesn’t match the complex firings inside his. I want to yell as loud as I can, “My son is brilliant!”




As soon as I read the word ‘again’ the lyrics of  Thank You For the Cross drift through my mind.

Sometimes I forget about the cross and I need to look again.

When the image of it becomes too familiar, I look again.

When I self-condemn and forget he extinguished sin ONCE AND FOR ALL, I look again.

When I see my brothers and sisters lashing out in anger, I look again. I hear him say, “Forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing.” I’m humbled by his mercy and I’m broken inside.

When resentment threatens to become more than a passing visitor, I look again. I marvel at his saving grace and I’m full of praise.

I look behind shaded eyes and see the highest of all kings in the most vulnerable position imaginable. He calls me his ‘friend?’ That is too absurd to understand.

Thank you for the cross, my friend.

Cross__by_art_angelesEnjoy the brilliance here


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