Pure joy. As we grew as a family they grew relationally. Yes, like all children they would squabble and fight, but there was always those hidden gems of moments when they would play together. Times where they would rough-house and giggle, moments of complete chaos and joy. Those times are such treasures to me. I lock them in my heart.  This morning, God my Father, revealed to me that he has those special moments too. That he looks at me, exploring the backyard he has provided and he smiles. He smiles so much. Such joy is brought to his heart as he watches me play. Sometimes we loose sight of this Father. We make up false images in our minds about who he is. We distort him. Even though he enjoys watching us play, we fail to see the delight on his face. It makes me so sad. I wonder if my children distort me in their minds? Do they know how endearing they are to me, or do they only see the angry moments when I am frustrated and tired.  Do they know how much I cherish them, delight in them? It makes me so sad, I wonder.... how many times I have imposed an angry father image on my heavenly Father, who delights to watch me play. When I find my heart in this soft, moldable place, so ready to hear him. He reminds me that not only does he love to watch me play, he loves to join in. He wants to explore with me, create messiness with me. Messiness that produces delight and joy.
He is not the Father we have to beg to join in. There is no, “Daddy will you play with me?” He is already there. Engaged. Hands in. Smiling. Delighting. Pure engaged adoration. And he looks at me, smiles, and says, “You are my beloved child.
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| This morning, as I sit in my window chair with the quietness of the house surrounding me, blurry eyed with the pungent aroma of coffee awakening my being, I ponder. The sky is changing to a crisp blue as the morning murkiness burns away revealing the new day. The long lost summer sun has returned, unwrapping my day of blessings. |  |
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!” my excited eight year old yelled at 6:30 in the morning as I groggily tried to get my bearings.
Really? This much energy and excitement at 6:30 in the morning? I thought I got to sleep in today….
Really? This much energy and excitement at 6:30 in the morning? I thought I got to sleep in today….
Few things are as sweet as a new book. The crisp pages yet to be ruffled with hands deep in the mess of life, a newness unspoiled. The woody smell of paper yearning to share the aroma as each page turns. The firmness of the spine, yet to bend to anyone’s desires or wishes, holding back the story, the message, the journey. An expectancy of the unknown, the “what if”, the carpe diem,
all for the taking.
all for the taking.
Who are you?
Who, who, who, who?
In 1978, Who Are You peaked at number 2 on the charts as Roger Daltrey questioned a generation about their identity. The search for identity is the age old quest for a purpose in life and reason for existence. Yet, a better question would be, whose are you? The answer to which will solve the puzzle of our identity.
Who, who, who, who?
In 1978, Who Are You peaked at number 2 on the charts as Roger Daltrey questioned a generation about their identity. The search for identity is the age old quest for a purpose in life and reason for existence. Yet, a better question would be, whose are you? The answer to which will solve the puzzle of our identity.
Traci-Lynn Burt
Follower of Jesus, wife, mother, friend, pastor, coach, abolitionist .... enough said.
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