Nothing But The Blood of Jesus

This family goes down on its knees after supper.
For our fallen soldier.
Our son and brother.
Our friend.
A fellow laborer in Christ.
The weight of his cross.
And what it is costing him.
Causing him to bend and break.
Cry.

We circle close on our knees.
This is submission.
When your mama's heart wants to get in the car and drive to him.
Rescue him.
Make it better.
Make it better, God.

Instead you lay it down.
Cross pile your cares.
On a God Who promises...
That He cares.

Our flesh burns hot.
As He holds our feet to the fire.
And we build a throne right there in the school room.
Strewn with paper and paint stains on the carpet.
Black splotches that I feel.
Real on my skin.

Everything black now.  Everything but the blood red pouring of grace on our little circle here tonight as we whisper that Name.  Our only help in these times of trouble.

Jesus,

Bernadette

Gratitude for Friends

They come bearing the marks of Jesus on their lives and in their smiles.  He has just returned from Tanzania, Africa, and she has been laboring for the Lord here in the States.  Apart.  Not apart.  For seven long months.

At our heart's cry, they cut their rest time to visit us.  To bring the breath of heaven, and to walk alongside. Just...to hold our scarred hands.  I'm so worn I can hardly hold my head up, but they are comfortable, and there is no performance here.  No pretending.  No hiding under fig leaves of falsehood.  We sit around the table.  All of us worn and weary.  Drawing strength from each other, and the One Who dwells so richly within us.  I feel my heart flutter and spark.

These friends who have shown us how to live.  How to live UNCOVERED.  They have walked with Jesus, and we have shamelessly watched them.  Modeled them like children model their older siblings.  This is the way you walk, little ones.  This is the way you talk.  Here are some books to read, and here is a way to pray.  We have nodded these heads and taken steps of our own.

As the Shoulders gathers his family around table again tonight to study Jesus.  To read His Words to us, and to dive deeper.  To dwell with Christ.  I am boastful in my spirit about the work of the Spirit in his life, and in the life of this family.  The children reach their hands out for this good food, and they are filled.

It was a hard week.  I am grateful.

For these two selfless friends, and for tonight's family gathering around the table of the King.  I think about them and all that we have learned just by watching, and I know that tonight would not likely be so with out them.  The deep pouring out.  How so much of what our family does is a result of their planting seeds in the soil of home.  How our family is more of a family than ever it has been because of their friendship and love.

How...because of the imprints their lives have left on ours, we look forward to Resurrection Sunday.  We begin to plan and prepare.  Because of Jesus in the surrendered hearts of S. and K., we long to usher in the King.

Hosanna to God in the Highest!

Bernadette

An Injustice

Everything broken tonight.
Kids all crying.
Crying out.
Hurt by the world.
By the hands of adults that are supposed to love.
Look out.
Tend.
Watch.
My nine year old learns that she can't trust.
And sits out in the car crying her eyes swollen.
Just like her mama.
The storm surges around us.
And how can I get them to turn to the Savior?
The only crag to cling to on this slippery ledge.
Life.
And the lashes it leaves on the tender backs.

Of children,

Bernadette

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL

Earth shakes.
Heart quakes.
It is well with my soul.
Satan scares.
Cast my cares.
It is well with my soul.
Fear tries.
Faith abides.
It is well with my soul.
Empty cup.
Rise UP.
And be well, my soul.
Not alone.
Remember the throne?
Oh, give a shout, my soul!
Praise the King.
All nations sing.
It is well.
It is well.
It is well...

With my soul,

Bernadette

To Fly

Once again the children are tucked into their beds, and I am left to sit alone in this worn out chair.  Worn out.  Days full of hydrated cells of emotion and all this struggling out of silky safe cocoon.  Anything for wings.

Don't we all want to fly now?

Bernadette

US

Jesus.
Just Your Name, that's all.
Just me in this tight space where I am nothing in all the world but Yours.
Where I am safe and held and loved.
Jesus.
Your grace is truly amazing.
And You keep giving me these beautiful pictures.
In my mind.
I wrap my arms around your waist.

How can a woman hold God?

You..

Hold me so tightly in Your embrace of grace.
That I think You might crush me.
In the power of Your love.
I must...
Close my eyes tight to receive You.
This.

Us,

Bernadette

Holding Fast

The StrongSoft already has our chairs pushed together and coffee in my cup when I come sleepy down the stairs.  She is excited.  I grab my bible, and we sit quiet for a time before she asks if I will read.  We start in Luke and I take my time.  No need to rush through the Word to get to His rushing wind.  We bow our heads.  She says, "Mom, do you want to hold hands?"  We lace our fingers, hold fast, and go to our Father.

Fasting and praying with my seventeen year old daughter, and my heart is undone.  We hold the things that we've been talking about up to the light, and let Him shine through.  We talk, excited, about what He has done here,  wonder what He will do.  With us.

I hold her sweaty hand and want to hold her heart in mine forever.  Hold this moment.

Fast,

Bernadette