Sunday, February 1, 2015

Love Notes

Shadows descend long, sketching the tall oaks and pines onto the concrete driveway.  I sit watching the sun slide down towards the tree line.  Lavender and pink melts onto clouds and my arms prickle with the ushering of a cool breeze, serenity.

It is pressed there between the pages, like a flower-- in between chapters of the New Testament, her card flutters free.  The wobbly script of years gone by, Crayola on paper: To: Mom From: MG.

How have the years slipped through my hands like sand?  We've shuffled through years of cards scattering nearly every square inch of our home.  I’ve huffed discontent at an unclean house, uncovering dusty folded notes under beds, shoved in crannies, sprinkled on counter tops.

How have I allowed discontent to creep into the fabric of my soul?  The place created for joy?

As the sun edges over the fringe of trees into the morning sky, and birds fluff feathers to sing the day into being, my girl marks and creates at the little table.  Her morning music is writing love notes to her mama.  Again, at dusk as the sun reflects onto the cratered moon, she scrawls and colors her soul onto paper.  For me.

They are becoming less.  The letters.  She’s growing up.  I have saved some of my favorites from all my children, but the notes are waning.

How often have I taken the love letters for granted?  Her soul spilling onto paper.

My huffing and tossing away papers that seem to explode over the house like the white blossoms of the pear tree in spring—covering our driveway and yard like snow.  Our floors are often this white storm.

Tears drip among the shadowed trees on concrete, and I give thanks for this daughter who thinks of me.  When I, too often, find one more note a burden.  I weep for my hardness.  I want to soak up the years that have flurried by too quickly.

I sit with the greatest love note of all in my lap--a Father’s love, a Son’s sacrifice. A God who accepts us just as we are--whispering across our hearts like the wind through the pines.  Just as the wind sculpts and transforms the earth, the Father’s grace wind never leaves us the same as before.

The never-changing God, always breathing into us, shaping and molding.

Transforming grace.  Whirlwind grace. Soul music.

Lord help me see as you do…rescue me from myself.  Give me a heart that yearns to rest in the beauty of now.  A heart that longs to steep in the grace of your presence.


Melody said...

"rescue me from myself" - oh yes, I pray that prayer a lot too. Found you through SDG and so glad I did! I love your little family and your heart for Jesus. I will be reading more for sure.

Melanie Singleton said...

So good to meet you Melody! SDG is a balm to my soul...beautiful authentic community! 💜