On Tombs

I sit in the chair on the eve of the most celebrated day in Christendom.
Resurrection Day.
A Stone Rolled Away.
One life Raised.
So we all could follow Him.

But I sit sad.
Because the Kind and Compassionate and I had it out tonight.
And because I keep failing and failing and failing.
Falling Mama.
Just sitting broken remembering him...
Rocking him to sleep singing his favorite song...
"Lay Down Your Burdens.  I Will Carry You."
Him sucking his thumb and reaching up to twist my hair.
Me trying to untangle him so I could hold his hand.
Him holding my face with those chubby fingers.

And I wonder that I can love a child so much.
And make him hurt the way I do.
And I don't know how to do this.
Can't.  Seem.  To.  Get.  It.  Right.
How do you raise a child without razoring his heart?
How do you help him to be strong while nourishing the tender heart that makes him precious?

On the night before victory.
I sit in a tomb all my own.

And wait for the SON to rise,

Bernadette

You Will Deny Me Three Times

When all the house is laid down in the hushing place, I sit late for a bit of quiet with Him.  His grace is God on my skin, and I soak it up.  The way He has been with me today, and how I said it many times aloud in the car.

"I love You, Jesus."

How I know...


He knows.

That I was ashamed of Him yesterday when a new friend asked me about our blog.  Asked me for it's name, and I felt...shame.  Said, "Well.  I'm not for everyone, you know."  Said it looking down at my feet and feeling my face flame and cringe.  She asked again.  Really wanted to know so she could check it out. Check me out...crawling out of my skin and changing the subject.  She said she heard about it from a friend, and would I be comfortable sharing it with her?  Ummm...no.

Just today I noticed that she asked three times.  Three times I thought I had escaped.  Dodged the bullet, dodged the ball, dodged the question.

Three times I denied knowing Him.

Yet all day, He has made me aware of Him.  Close.  Very close.  That's how His grace is God on my skin, and why I can't stop saying it.

"I love You, Jesus."

Because I know...

He knows.

Bernadette

Thanks for Being Fried by Two in the Afternoon

Flying down the stairs to the Shoulder's office at eight A.M.
To his arms and his words and his strength.
Speak into the warm curve of his neck
that the Boy is breaking my heart today.
That he hates me sometimes.
And I don't like him sometimes.
And when in all the world did this get so hard?
Swimming in failure and fatigue and frustration.
I bite my tongue until it bleeds at nine A.M.
This strange see-saw of him slamming doors at ten A.M and...
Needing fifteen hugs before eleven A.M.
Snacking right before lunch at twelve P.M.
Crying because I asked him to put dishes away at one P.M
Me sitting here whipped and wiped at two P.M.
Slumped.
Remembering to give thanks....
For a boy who drives me daily to Jesus.
That he loves me.
That I love him.
For his beautiful eyes.
Long dark lashes on pale skin.
Faintest remaining freckles.
His hands on the cello.
The way he loves to laugh.
The way he laughs at me.
That we both keep trying.
Knowing that God knit him together just so.
That I am learning to trust Jesus.
Because I am not enough.

And the boy and his mama need a Savior,

Bernadette

How A Fast Can Make You Slow

"Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that proceeds from the mouth of God."  Matthew 4:4

The StrongSoft and I are at it again. This fasting and praying for a world thus lost, and my stomach speaks its own language.  Feed me.  We press in, but it's hard for her too, and why, mom?  Why is it so hard this time?

Have you ever known two fasts alike?  My thoughts slow, remembering my prayer list and my Jesus, as I make homemade macaroni and cheese for the sports banquet.  As she bakes three chocolate cream pies.  Our stomachs cry.  We sigh and press on.  Serve with hearts laid low like a body in the grave and draw close to Him.  Cling to Him.

Because we're hungry,

Bernadette

I Recognize

I Recognize,
You are the Only One I must present myself to.


I Recognize,
When presented, I am approved of by You.


I Recognize,
I am no longer required to live by the impossible demands of this world.


I Recognize,
Your yoke is easy.
Your burden is light.
It's a brilliant,
shield-your-eyes,
freedom-kind-of
Light.


I Recognize,
It's this heavy closeness that we both desire.

I recognize now,

Wendy :)

HOME

A Jealous God.
Won't allow His daughters to live slaving lies.
His bride will be pure.
And it has been a week of wash basin and towel.
In the hands of the Servant Savior.
Water and the Word, see.
That's the right way to get cleaned up.
After a bit of mucking around.
In the pit of pride.
Attending that self pity party.
Dressed for a ball until I see Him waiting and watching.
Standing over the vats of water with His rod.
I don't whine.
I am a grape that must be pressed.
By His feet.  By His walk.
By His relentless witness and the way He always says.
"Pick it up, Beloved.  Pick up your cross, now.  Again.  And follow Me all the way home."

Home,

Bernadette

On Truth

Truth.

Know Truth.
Love Truth.
Walk in the Truth.


And The Truth Shall Make You Free.

Bernadette