Tuesday, November 19

A Practice of the Eyes

The morning came when my husband bent down to kiss my waking head.  Fresh from the shower he reminds me of all things new.

Yesterday echoed of illness and stillness -- not by my prediction.  But shouldn't interruptions be seen as invitations? What God had for me was presence and I was grateful.

Today, thinking the young son would return to class, I was midway into my own plan when, surprised, I turned the corner and bent low to rub his back while he let his stomach go. Again. Today would be yesterday in disguise.

Placing my gym clothes back fresh in the drawer, my words to the Father were, "Follow me around today.  You'll need to provide a moment."

More of the same; stories and tissues and bites of banana. What will emerge significant?

James says, when we pray we need to do it with boldness, never doubting the character of God, purely motivated to see him model what it means to be a doer.  So, I asked him, "Do." And he nudged his people.


The first knock, my neighbor (my friend) with scones fresh from the oven. Saying, "Thank you" and "I don't know" and "Let's be intentional."  Of course we will.  We've journeyed together these past four years far beyond the titles and positions into that realm of friendship where I am heard and altered and filled up every single time.

When you close a chapter that involves friends, where you've invested and devoted, you don't know what it looks like to be together in a different way.  When do we meet?  When do I know you'll just be there? When will we talk about the dynamic life?  I don't know.  But let's be intentional.


The second knock (can this be happening?):  My friend with gifts for a new baby girl that we're showering through the mail.  And then a gift for me. Something perfect, of course.  "Thank you" and "It's not clear" and "I wish."  And then couch conversations about the wrestling over where to find joy and family.  When I closed this chapter it changed things for her. I know. I know. I keep forgetting how connected we all really are.

If we have no peace it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each another. -- Mother Teresa

This friend, she's not so far that I can't call her a neighbor too, is a positive force.  She can push me and question me with all the love and grace I need to see things another way.  She defines things. Thinks the best.  Does the word.  Develops. I won't let go of that kind of good.  I'd be lost without it.  Oh, that we could continue kingdom work together.  It's not clear.  I wish.


They brought gifts so they could say more than just words.  Because what do you say when someone has freely handed you love and loyalty?  When she's demonstrated that what she says and what she does are both equal and congruent.  When you know she's excelled in prayer for you?  How do you express that because of her your vision and direction are forever reshaped? That you've found a deeper part of yourself because she was willing to bring the shovel and help you dig?

The same thing you say to Jesus who does all of those things for us; who gives us this honor of letting us reflect him to other people: Thank you.

The practice of giving thanks...eucharisteo...this is the way we practice the presence of God, stay present to his presence, and it is always a practice of the eyes. We don't have to change what we see. Only the way we see.  -- Ann Voskamp