The Blessing of You

Most people don't expect to be the mother of a sixteen year old when they're around thirty: I was no exception.  And yet, just months after my thirtieth-first birthday, God radically changed my expectations...He gave us you.

When we adopted you--I never use that term legally; as far as I'm concerned, you became our daughter in April of 2001 not a year and a half later when the courts signed official papers--I didn't expect the myriad emotions that would run rampage in my mind.  Love, fear, concern, worry, and protectiveness seemed to mingle in a jumbled confusion as I learned to be your mother. 

I loved you before we adopted you, and yet differently than I would grow to love you.  Unlike most moms, I knew my little girl before she was "mine".  I'd come to care about you while Dad was your pastor, not your father, and I had grown to love you as we sang silly songs together in a tiny back room of our little church when I was your youth leader, not "Mommas".   Once you came into our home, I found myself growing to love you more and more.  Perhaps as I learned to sacrifice my own desires and began serving your needs better, I learned to love you more richly.  Perhaps as you allowed your protective barrier to inch its way down further and further, I loved you more deeply.  More likely, I believe that I loved you more and more as God knit the six of us into the Walker unit.  You were chosen as a member of our family before the foundation of the earth.  God had finally brought us together.

But I still had much to learn.  I was still so self-centered in much of my thinking. I was afraid of making mistakes. I'd never parented a girl before, let alone one who was already a teenager.  Would you love me back?  Would I earn the title "Mom"?  Would you wish you'd never become a part of our family?  Would you rather live with your biological mother?  Would...would...would?  Each night I found myself questioning, wondering, and crying out to God.  I was concerned that you wouldn't understand our desires for you and would rebel at our principles.  I was afraid that we wouldn't capture your heart.  I was concerned for your well-being at a public school when we were against everything that it represented.  I was fearful for your spiritual health--worried that we wouldn't have enough time to teach you Godly principles.  But God is faithful.

One tool that he used to grow us as mother and daughter was our journaling.  I'm so thankful that we began writing to one another. Those letters were the beginnings of my love letters to you, my dear.  As I wrote, I began to understand God's plan for me as your mother.   I prayed for you before penning many of those notes and through those prayer times God began to grow a love deeper than I could have imagined possible.  Slowly, my fears began to dissipate--oh sure, I still worried about you and still do, for that matter (that's a mother's perogative, isn't it?) but they're the natural fears of motherhood, not the irrational fears of a floundering woman learning her role.  My worries were replaced by great pride in our relationship.  My heart was filled with wonder at the blessings of God.

Six years later, I find myself changed again.  You've been married for three years now, and our role has metamorphosed into another newness.  We've become friends.  How good God is.  How very, very, GOOD. 

My daughter and friend, may you always know how very thankful I am for the blessing of you.

9:04 PM - Jan. 6, 2007 - comments {2} - post comment

Fearsome Monster

Dear Corey,

If Dad and I had named you as the Old Testament prophets named their children, we might have called you "Son-of-Many-Faces".  You love to entertain!  Your clownish facial contortions make us smile and you've always delighted in bringing laughter through wiggling ears and alternating eyebrow lifts.  Of course, your myriad faces haven't always served you well.  I'll never forget a night many years ago: the night of the fearsome monster.

When you were about three you realized that if you raised clawed hands, stomped your feet slowly across the living room, raised your eye brows high, and growled through half-smiling, snarled lips at your older brother, he would squeal hysterically, laugh uncontrollably, and run circles around the house.  That of course, was just the payment "Son-of-Many-Faces" desired.  So, one night when sweet-little-you came stomp-growling into our bedroom, Dad and I clung to one another with feigned terror while I cried, "Oh no!  It's a monster!  Help!"  To this day, I shudder to remember your frightened face. The cute wide-eyed "beast" became once again, our sensitive Corey as you ran, panic on your face, full-speed into our arms.  Never imagining yourself as a monster, you assumed that their was imminent danger from a prowling creature right on your heels.   

You will find Corey, as you mature, many times when you will fail to recognize the monster that is you.  What I mean is this: humans commonly fear the unknown--dark places, uncertain futures, big moves, rejection.  But what we often fail to realize is that the biggest danger typically lurks much closer to home: right in our own flesh. Not until we recognize our own sinfulness, the monster within, might we truly live. Even as believers we face daily battles against the ugly flesh. If you can become a man who examines his heart on a daily basis, confesses his sinfulness, studies God's Word, abides by Scriptural principles, holds himself accountable to others, and prays for his Father's will rather than his own, you will become less and less "monster-like" and more and more Christ-like. 

Last, dear son, remember the refuge you found in arms of your loving parents. God loves you infinitely more.  He's there when the "monsters" really are at your heels and He's there when you struggle against the flesh.  At all times, even when the monster is you, find comfort in His arms. 

With Love,

Mom

8:07 AM - Oct. 4, 2006 - comments {1} - post comment

Joyful Worship

  Good morning kids.  I'm preparing for worship.  I must admit, I haven't always done a good job readying my heart for the Lord's Day.  But last night with Dad, I visited, as you know, a lovely lady. She's my age, (and no, that is not old!) and was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor.  As a result of seeing her after surgery and visiting with her family, I find myself so excited about worship this morning.  Seems strange, doesn't it?  And yet, I am keenly aware today of the Lord's mercy and power...of my own frailty. 

We are but dust, kids.  God is God.  If I would remember that every moment, I would praise, fear, exalt, declare, and serve more wholeheartedly.  How did you live your days this week?  Were you lazy?  Did you do your schoolwork/housework as unto the Lord?  Did you rejoice in days the Lord made?  Did you spend time ministering to others?  Delighting in God's good works?  Living each moment as a gift from God? 

This morning, my heart feels as if it's been tenderized. I have seen the Lord at work, and though His ways are too great for me to comprehend, too overwhelming at times, to understand, I know, without a doubt, that God is still on His throne!  And as a result, I can't wait to corporately declare His Name and sing His praises this morning!   How about you?

"The Lord reigns, He is clothed with majesty; The Lord is clothed, He has girded Himself with strength...You are from everlasting" (Psalm 93:1-2)

With love,

Mom

7:37 AM - Sep. 17, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment

Golden Nuggets

I write letters to you on a daily basis.  "What?" you ask.  Yes, I 've just never penned them in ink.  They're written on the backs of my eyelids while I lie in bed, etched on the pages of my mind while I do dishes, or whispered as prayers to the Lord when I kneel on your behalf.  But today, with Dad's urging, I write them in ink: at least the twenty-first century equivalent.  Sometimes I'll write to all of you, sometimes individually, occasionally with thoughts for the present day, regularly, with thoughts for the future, but always, with love. 

As you know, I grew up in a tiny foothills community.  At that time, Ione was even less of a community than it is now.  The town had one grocery store, one Mexican food restaurant, one drugstore, two gas stations, and three saloons.  No shopping centers. No fastfood.  But the town boasted a creek full of frogs, and a rope swing that launched us into cool waters on hot summer days.  Along the slopes, in tangled masses, blackberries begged to be popped by handfuls into the mouths of grubby children, like me.  Groves of trees loaded with buckeyes were perfect forts, loaded with "ammunition".  Local gas station attendants saved bags of nuts and bolts, broken motor cycle helmets, and even large magnets for best friends who "begged" for junk to be transformed into robotic creations or factory workings.  A worn saddle atop a sawhorse, and chairs covered with tarp, carried young minds across the midwestern plains in a covered wagon.  These were my days.  What treasures! 

Today, we live in a busy world.  It's easy to forget the simple pleasures.  Heather, relish the joys of God's creation. Take David for a picnic by a river; sit on a blanket in the front yard to read a book; run together in the rain.  Boys, swing from the branches; dig trenches in the dirt; eat fruit right off the trees. 

A trip to a burger joint and Borders bookstore will rarely, probably never, cause you to praise your Creator.  Live today remembering Who gave you an imagination and painted this world's canvas.  Remember that the real golden nuggets aren't found in a McDonald's wrapper, but in the mind's recollection of simple treasures. 

With Love,

Mom

8:37 AM - Sep. 16, 2006 - comments {0} - post comment