I found this in my photo archives today and it always makes me smile! A Christmas card I made of Legend at nine months...tooo cute for words. It reminds me that it's the little moments that matter the most. We were hanging out in the back of Joel's little red truck, the one with the Jesus sticker covering the cracked rear window. The one that ran on prayers for nearly 300,000 miles. Legend's belly laughs entertained us all, and we entertained each other with the antics we were willing to do just to hear that infectious giggle.
Today was a good day. We rode the Christmas train and played on the swings in the dark with a million Christmas lights swirling and sparkling in the night. I sang Christmas carols (all the ones about Jesus) at the top of my lungs because I was that happy and I wanted everyone to know that it's Jesus that brings that kind of happiness.
But the day didn't start out that way. It began with some failed attempts to run errands and I felt myself desperately hanging onto the sweet moments Jesus held me last night as I cried into my laundry pile. I literally just climbed on top of the mountain of clothes and cried. It was late and my little Boston had been throwing up all night the night before and my dear man has been working seven days a week for thirteen hours a day and I've been angry with myself for not being able to "keep it all together" and "just be grateful". But you know what? Sometimes it's ok to be weak. Because when I am weak, God's strength is made perfect in me. And that's just what happened. On my laundry pile. While the prayer room streamed live worship anointed from heaven (I was listening to 2 PM Dec. 15, Thur in archives and 10 PM Dec 15) Jesus met me in my mess.
Loved me in my mess.
Reminded me that messiness doesn't really bother him like it bothers us. Like it bothers me.
Reminded me through that phone call from my dad, that amazing phone call where my dad read me scriptures my heart needed to hear. Read me poems, the stanza of songs. It is truly beautiful to have a dad that does that. Truly. To hear in his voice, that song I always loved by Ann Kiemel Anderson, the one she would sing in airport bathrooms to ladies crying into their purses...
All my confusion
All I had to offer Him
Was brokenness and strife
But He's making something beautiful
Out of my life
Jesus isn't uncomfortable with messy.
He chose to be borne in a dirty, straw laden barn where the stench of animals was pungent and the only bed to lay him in was a manger where the animals had slobbered all over their food.
He chose this.
Humbled himself, so that He could lift us up. Lived in our messy world (the very messiest parts), to bring us peace with God.
Making something beautiful out of us all.