Dreams

I woke up from my sleep gradually, but the feeling was still very real. Zeke, my second-born son, was estranged from us. In my dream, my heart hurt, and all I desperately wanted to do was be reunited with my boy. I was helpless, but refusing to give up hope. I held in my body a grief beyond words.

A dream like that is shocking, but when it’s the second one like it in less than a week, it becomes soul-troubling.

Who knows what was behind those dreams? Perhaps they were from God, warning me about days to come. Perhaps they were from the devil, working to plant fear into my heart. Perhaps they were the leftovers of whatever mishmash my brain had been sorting through from the day. 

I woke up to my alarm at 5:30, and climbed out of bed, heart still feeling like an open sore that needed to be handled with a gentle touch. I spent my first waking moments talking to God about what my dreams might mean.

And I didn’t hear a resounding, “Your Zeke will always be safe and will always be close to you.”  Not that I really expected that, but it would have been nice to hear.

I think every mom knows that, at some point, her heart will be broken by the kids she loves so dearly and passionately. 

I did sense that the Lord was using the dreams to remind me, once again, that He alone is my constant. He is the one relationship I have that will not disappoint or leave me brokenhearted.. 

And, once again, He reminded me to hold on to His kids loosely. 

I may have plans for Zeke: what I’d like to see in our future relationship, my excitement at watching how he’ll use his God-given strength as he grows. But God has even greater plans for him. He knows ALL of the ups and the downs of Zeke’s future. He sees all of that, and through them, he has designed a beautiful purpose for this little child’s life. …And it probably does not line up with the scrapbook-perfect timeline I have imagined. 

Zeke is God’s first… mine only secondary. He has been gifted to me for the short amount of time I have with him. This is a humbling and frightening and freeing thought for a momma.

Zeke woke up at 5:48 that morning. It was just him and me. Me and him. And I never thought for a second to scold him for coming out of his room so early. And you better believe that I soaked up that early morning snuggle and heart-to-heart conversation with my very special second-born son.

Clouds

A dark cloud has settled in over Northern California this week. I hear the hard drips of water pouring off of our roof. It is 6:30 in the morning, without any real sign of sunrise in sight. It is dark. And wet. And I am very thankful for a good roof over my head, a working furnace, and a little bit of my husband’s morning coffee in my cup.

We here in California have experienced a massive drought over the last few years. The lakes and reservoirs have hit levels that are hard to believe for this Midwest girl. We’ve been taking shorter showers, cutting way back on watering our lawns, and trying to use every drop of water for a purpose before letting it get down the drain.

So this rain is beautiful. This cloud is lovely. It is heaven-sent, and I humbly give thanks and worship our Creator Sustainer for it.

But so often, in daily life, I want the dark clouds to go away. His judgement is clouded... She’s been walking around in a dark cloud for weeks... There’s a cloud hovering over this place. 

My husband and I had just said some of these exact things to each other this week. And we desired for those dark clouds we saw to go away.

And then I opened my Bible, and the Lord opened my eyes.

I was reading in bed, starting to doze off for the night, when these words jumped off the page at me:

“When the priest withdrew from the Holy Place, the cloud filled the temple of the Lord. And the priest could not perform their service because of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord filled his temple. 

Then Solomon said, ‘The Lord has said that he would dwell in a dark cloud.’” (1 Kings 8:10-12)

The Lord is IN a dark cloud!?! So often I try to limit him to the light, to the joy, to the rejoicing. But he is much greater than these things. He is also in the dark clouds. He is working in the hard. He is active through the difficult. From the very beginning…

“The earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” (Genesis 1:2)

And again…

“By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way.” (Exodus 13:21)

“The Lord said to Moses, ‘I am going to come to you in a dense cloud, so that the people will hear me speaking with you and will always put their trust in you.’ … On the morning of the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled. Then Moses led the people out of the camp to meet with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain.” (Exodus 19:9, 16-17)

As was the case in Moses’s time, most people were terrified of the dark cloud. They didn’t want to go near to it.

But that’s where God was!

Oh, how often am I terrified of the dark clouds in my life? How often am I captivated by the desire to have happy, sunshiny days every day? But day after day of sunshine brings a terrible drought. 

The dark clouds are good. God is there! The Lord is in the dark clouds of our lives. He is there in the hardest moments of parenting. He is there on days when we cannot seem to connect with our spouse. He is there when we feel as though we have been failing at our job. He is there. And his power is sometimes most evident in the cloud—so much so that it makes us sit back and tremble at his might, and at our frailty.

And if we are humble to open our eyes to his work, his dark cloud is refreshing as pouring rain to a drought-ridden land.

A Father's Lap

My five-month-old Simon is getting more and more mobile with each day that passes. I remember that with my first born, it seemed to take f - o - r - e - v - e - r for him to reach his gross motor milestones. With this one, it is happening way too fast. He’s rolling from his back to his stomach. He’s inching his way forwards and backwards. I saw him do a plank for a half a second today. And this week, he discovered he could roll from his stomach to his back. I feel like we’ve reached the point of no return. This little boy is going to move, whether the rest of us are ready for it or not.

Today he was sitting in my love’s lap, Dave doing what he could to keep him entertained while I got ready for the day. And this is what I saw: Simon squirming and wiggling with every developing muscle in his body, working his hardest to make his way out of that lap.

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My dear friend Sherry, who has lots of experience raising kids and even more experience walking with the Lord, looked at Simon in my arms this past summer (when he was much more prone to cuddling), and was reminded of the way that God loves to hold us close. Ever since that day with her, my mind finds its way back to this picture of God holding us close, the way a parent holds their newborn baby—like there is nothing more precious, nothing more important for His arms to be doing than holding us close to His heart.

And how often do we respond in the way that a five-month-old might? We feel confident in our own newly-found abilities, we have our own ideas of what’s best for us, and we have the urge to get out. And God, in his wisdom and love, allows us to go… to wiggle… to squirm our way away from his lap. I’m sure we look ridiculous to him, as we slide down onto the ground and find ourselves in a position from which we don’t know the way out. Simon ended with his belly on the carpet and his face flat against Dave’s hairy leg. 

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What follows is beautiful. 

Simon looked up at us with expectant eyes as if to say, “Can you get me out of here?” Of course, we did. And of course, God does. Every time that we think we know better than he does, he rescues us. Every time that somewhere else seems more appealing than his lap, he’s there to draw us back into his arms. Every time that we look up at him with those eyes that beg, “Can you get me out of here?” he reaches down in grace and love and pulls us up.

But as for me, how good it is to be near God!

    I have made the Sovereign Lord my shelter,

    and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do.

Psalm 73:28