Do You Hear It?
In just a couple hours, I’ll wave good-bye to a few of my favorite people in the world. My daughter, Elizabeth, will pack up her four— Duke, Scarlet, Birdie, and Sloane— and head back to her home.
She’ll leave behind a scattering of mismatched doll clothes, a garbage bin full of diapers, and all the marks and messes of a baby, a toddler, an active boy, and a growing-up girl.
And me? I’ll miss them.
Maybe not the messes— but I’ll miss the morning cuddles, the giggles and secrets, the chubby arms raised high, wanting more of me.
And yet, for all I’ll miss, as soon as that black Honda SUV drives away, I’ll dive right in to cleaning up. I know I will. As if the most important thing I have to do today is get my house clean.
I feel the itchiness of the messes stressing my soul… and cleaning up is a way of scrubbing at the sadness that I won’t see those babies tomorrow or the next day, or the next.
And so, early this morning, while sipping tea and settling in, before opening my Bible to listen, I made my list. Just real quick, I jotted down The Plan for the rest of the week.
And immediately, stress filled my chest. So much to do, crammed into too little time.
I gotta get it done, gotta get going, quick, Di, read your Bible and get to work!
I feel my heart pounding to the rhythm of hurry.
I opened my Bible to where I left off yesterday, only somehow, all on its own, the fluttering pages fell open to one of the Psalms.
Okay, yeah, makes sense, this is a Psalms kind of day, I’ll read this first, then get to work.
“This forever-song I sing of the gentle love of God! Young and old alike will hear about Your faithful, steadfast love— never failing!”
My soul slows.
Yes! I want to start my day singing of Your gentle love, not fussing about my floors. Even more, I want my Grands to know Your faithful, never failing, steadfast love.
The growing up, and the growing old. We both need this. And who better to pass it on than me, a woman who’s still trying and too often failing to get it. To remember.
I breath deep. Find my pen in the folds of the blanket that covers my white cushy chair, set that list aside. I know what’s coming. I feel His presence calming the clamor in my head, shushing me much like I calmed and shushed Scarlet when worry kept her from sleep. I read more:
“Can you hear it?”
Yes! Yes, I hear You!
“Heaven is filled with Your praises, O Lord! All the holy ones are praising You for Your miracles. The sons of God are praising You for Your mighty wonders.”
While I’ve been making lists, worrying about my self-imposed, too-much day, I’ve missed the sound of the singing of the holy ones. I’ve missed the praise for the miracles of this day. And I almost missed the wonder.
I almost missed hearing all I needed to remember:
“We can do nothing but leap for joy all day long,
For we know who You are and what You do…”
How is it I keep forgetting? That joy isn’t found in checking off the tasks on The List. That a perfectly ordered world won’t bring me close in to the settled peace and hope-filled rest of knowing who You are and what You do. That…
“The glory of Your splendor is our strength.”
Not the glory of every email answered, my calendar up to date, the word count caught up, my bathtub scrubbed. Why do I keep forgetting this?
“Your marvelous favor makes us even stronger, lifting us higher!”
Yes, I believe this. I know this. It’s Your ‘marvelous favor’, not my latest efficiency hacks that lift all of us higher.
And then these words, words for me, and words for every mama who’s facing a world of too-much…
“Your wrap around presence is our protection.”
All the planning and organizing in the world will not achieve for me this kind of leaping joy. The strength God gives is the antithesis of the jaw clenching determination to get it done that almost wrecked my day.
I hear it now.
And isn’t that what my girl, Elizabeth, needs to hear from me right now? As she drives over the mountains with her car full of the miracles you give, isn’t that what I want her to know?
That those messy little miracles are from You, that it’s worth the work, that in hearing and noticing and seeing You in the midst of it all, strength comes.
That, in fact, Your splendor is our strength.
I want my daughter— and every mama— to know the truest truth. I want her to see beyond the list, beyond the daily struggles, the constant chaos and conflict and endless work.
I want to remind her, just as the Spirit reminded me this morning, to listen for the sound of all of heaven praising. I want her, as she drives over those mountains towards home, to join the singing.
What kind of difference would that make on that long, hot drive home? What kind of difference would that make as I face my too-busy day?
I can’t wait to find out.
From my heart,
Diane
P.S. I’m reading, these days, out of The Passion Translation (TPT). The poetry of this newer translation has caught my heart with its… well, passion. And as I read, “His wrap around presence” is wrapping me tight.