Friday, December 5, 2014

The Ordinary

When words sting like poison darts, venom entering my bloodstream.

Stomping feet, slamming doors, and tears.  Despair in a mother’s heart.  Chest cavity full of shards.

Anger a dense gray cloud descending into every corner of our home.

Self-control flying out the window with all rational.

Sin upturned like raking the brown leaves from the bottom of the three-foot high pile in our backyard.  The ones underneath decayed and rotten like the sin flittering through the den—twirling, spinning, falling round and round like leaves pirouetting to the ground.  We dive head-first into a sin pile.

I hear objects being thrown against the wall.  Voices and lies inflate high and loud, hanging heavy in the atmosphere of our home.

Our Jesse tree and devotion sitting nearby...all feels futile.  I feel alone and forget all truth.

Love that came down for people like me-- moments like these.  I forget how my Savior broke through the dark, entering the chaos, stench, and pain.

I dial the number and my child refuses to speak to his daddy.  I gaze upon the dark hair and eyes like mine.  Almost as tall.  Saturated with self-righteousness and pride like me.

He finally speaks and takes the phone call downstairs.

My head in my hands and it seems like hours go by, the clock ticking molasses.  Tears and prayers.

That lean boy suddenly storms the room, propelling his full weight upon my shoulders.  Warm tears and muffled words, I love you mommy, I was wrong.

The streams flow.  Splotched red faces.  Our brown eyes lock and we talk about grace and forgiveness.  The reason that babe came into the chaotic stench of ordinary lives like ours.  How much we need a Rescuer.

Beauty never comes as I expect.  Through the brown stub of the mundane life of ordinary people a green sprout of hope for a boy’s heart.

Our Only Hope is in a God-wrapped baby with a family tree full of messy people.  Birthed among hay, filth, and animals.

I’m thankful He chooses to enter into this mess of ordinary people with mundane lives.

He is extraordinary.

{photo credit:}

1 comment:

Shannon said...

Oh, friend... yes. This.