The Kitten and I lay together last night in my bed. Nobody can sleep for new school year jitters, and already, the Kind and Compassionate has come for good night hugs three times. The Strong Soft lands softly on the edge of the mattress. Trying not to cry. Losing all her peace in the space of hours, and feeling those big dreams being crowded by walls of fear. Will they all fall down? Fall on her heart for Jesus? Breaking?
What can a Mama do for a child like that? A woman like that? A young lady that strides those long strides while I shuffle along behind crying that life is too scary and can't we all just stay at home? Her long pony tail slides through my fingers, and I try to comfort her even as I draw her courage through my hands. Just trace her loveliness with my fingers, and remind her that she doesn't need to carry everything. It's okay to put some things down. We just sit in silence.
The Silent Deep is leaving in two days for college, and when in all the world did I grow old? He smiles and puts his hand right there on my shoulder. Touch speaks, and he is oh, so gentle with my heart. Does he know? How much I miss him here with all that quiet depth that reaches to touch my own...and what happens when a boy becomes a man that is tender with his mama? Mmmmm...lots of damming tears. Smiling and a bit of looking away. Just so I don't break and make him feel sorry. Just so he knows how much I love him and how proud I am just to call him son.
And the Kitten...we lay talking for hours last night. About heaven. "Tell me Mommy, what does the Bible say about the streets again? Are they gold? And are the walls really made out of jewels and the gates of pearls? Can we talk about that Mommy? Can we talk about heaven? And Mommy, did you know I'm not one bit afraid to die because I can't wait to see Jesus? I'm just going to LOVE that. I'm so glad that I asked Him into my heart, and I'm so glad that you and Daddy love Jesus too."
She rubs unknown oil on a very sore wound. An eight year old nurse. I cradle all her innocence, and wonder if this is the last night she will ever call me "Mommy". She clings to me for comfort, and we talk and talk and talk. When did my baby girl become such an intimate conversationalist? I feel like I'm falling in love with someone new, and it is heavenly. Joy.
Jesus builds a house, and often he uses sorrow and fear bricks. Sometimes the mortar is just all that love in ALL of it, holding things down. Together. I want to understand mortar. I want to be mortar. Love.
So even though our first day brought an early morning trip to urgent care for Boy Blue with a diagnosis of pneumonia, I am learning some things. Finally. Really trusting now that He is IN all things, not just saying it with my little lips (OH! To have lips!) Even though my worshipped boxes don't all get checked off the holy "to do", I am learning to relax into HIS schedule. HIS timing.
"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." Proverbs 16:9
And yes, please, let's do talk about heaven,