Friday, April 13, 2007

With Eyes of Faith

At 6:00 this morning I fed Lennon and McCartney (The Cats), made my pretend coffee which I took upstairs to my Dream Room and then settled on the floor in front of the electric heater, which in my imagination only, resembles an old fashioned oil stove. I watched an episode of Road to Avonlea (courtesy of Netflix) instead of holding my quiet time with my books and listening and praying. And don't tsk tsk, but if I get too legalistic about it, my quiet time becomes old hat and even God gets a little bored with it. I'll set time aside for us later today, but even so, still I sat there quietly, sipping and watching and brushing tears away (Avonlea always makes me cry) and kept an ear opened to God because, though it may sound odd, He often whispers to me whenever I quiet my heart beat, even if I happen to be watching tv.

In fact, I sat there and recalled how, when Naomi was 10-years-old, I'd dread the years ahead when she'd be gone and my mothering days would cease. Back then I thought only of what would be lost, not gained. And so I spent the next years appreciating every little aspect of Life With Naomi and trying to stretch each moment, which was a good thing. But I also dreaded the end of it all, which was not so good.

The problem was that I reached beyond Grace. There is a protection about Grace--as long as you cooperate with her and don't look beyond her, you enjoy where you are and what you have. But it's those stares beyond that protection--those frightened glimpses into the future which bring dread and spoil Today because we've not yet been given strength--Grace--to handle them.

Anyway, back to this morning there on the floor in front of the tv... I sat there and thought how, during the Years With Naomi, I didn't know I'd experience such luxury in the Years Beyond Naomi. Oh, not the sitting on the floor part (just something I prefer up there), but the creating of my own schedule and doing what I like, when I like, how I like. Being able to dust off my writing after taking a 25-year break and writing uninterrupted.

And too, the ability to take time out to heal when the need arises. Instead of chauffeuring Naomi around everywhere or having to put on a smiling face down in the kitchen or postponing grieving or healing because of needing to attend open house and the basketball game and the church play, I can now, instead, be alone with my thoughts and God and His healing presence.

Oh, some people, I realize, can get over Life's hurts on the run and in the midst of crowds, but I'm not one of that group. No, I heal best alone with Time and God and Quiet. On the run and in busyness, I only pile hurt upon hurt, almost volcano-like, needing more time later to heal or else, waiting till the inevitable burst.

And this morning I guess I remembered those years of that nagging dread I kept always in a drawer in my mind, not because I'm hurt or healing right now, but because this all feels more like luxury and delight instead of the rough, life-won't-be-as-good days I'd imagined as my future lot in life. There's time for reaching beyond my home and there's a purpose to my life which I'd not seen, either, when looking past Grace into the future she wouldn't let me see since God prefers I walk by faith, not by sight.

And perhaps that's why I'm sharing this--so that those of you who are trying to see beyond Grace can just relax and refocus your gaze to her present face. So that you can keep sowing in confidence the good things you will reap later. And so you'll know that all can be not only well with your soul after your children leave, but much more incredible than you are imagining now.

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