Since the twins' birth, most of my days wrangling children are filled with reminders of my personal weakness and total lack of ability to do most anything right.Cheerios? Amelia dumped her bowl onto the floor four times this morning. And I let her eat them anyway.
Laundry? Three loads later, and I have failed to get the dirt pile stains out of the khaki-colored shorts daddy dressed Wyatt in on Saturday.
Supper? Eaten in three shifts versus my vision of family togetherness because daddy was stuck in eternal traffic and I broke down to let a feverish Wyatt watch the long-awaited Finding Nemo.
I'm weak. I'm holding my head in my hands many times before breakfast is even finished.
But because I already know I'm weak, I tend to believe God doesn't need to remind me of that fact. Why can't He can just check off that box on my learning chart?
I. Get. It.
But not fully enough.
So, He makes me weaker, sending an early fall cold to invade our household. Last week, despite my intentions, I posted to this blog only once as I filled the roles of both patient and nurse. First me, then Amelia, then their daddy, and now Wyatt. Fever, headache, aching limbs, and three tiny Old Faithful noses that balk at being wiped or blown.
Somewhere, in the midst of my increased weakness, God spoke, reminding me of someone else who was weak, someone else who was suffering on an entirely different level...and whose suffering wouldn't pass in a week or two like mine would.
He reminded me of the ministry He gave me about a year ago--crocheting prayer shawls. Three skeins of Williamsburg blue, a size N crochet hook, and me working in my weakness, hoping and praying to bring some comfort to this woman through my hands and my prayers.
I planned to finish the shawl up to deliver on Saturday, but God had other things in mind. His "now" meant "now." To make sure I understood, He caused the phone lines and the Internet to quit working for the next 24 hours.
Posting to this blog? Not in His will for last Thursday. Instead, I sat and finished the shawl, chaining loops of prayer and tying knots of hope on both ends for an earlier Friday delivery.
Just yarn and knots. Just one weak woman submitting in that weakness to a strong, compelling voice in her soul.
And in that stillness, I remember once again where my strength comes from.
Photo: A blossom from my night blooming cereus. Beautiful only in darkness, it wilts with the first rays of morning sun.
I still have the box you sent near my bed. I need to have someone teach me, Jennifer. ... I really want to make a prayer shawl! This is the kick I need to get help with this project.
ReplyDelete(Pretty photo.)
First of all, the night blooming cereus is beautiful. So is its significance.
ReplyDeleteNext, I would have loved to see how the prayer shawl looks.
This post is so touching. Love the way you write and share your heart, Jennifer.
Like you I am weak. Too weak...more than what I am willing to admit. But it's true.
But admitting our weakness qualifies us to be recipients of God's grace.
I do thank God for you, that you have an obedient and perceptive heart.
Your gentleness is evident, and comes as an encouragement to me.
Love
Lidj
Love
Lidj
And you know what really strikes me, as I read your honest words here, is the strength that it takes to submit. We are weak, oh yes. More than we think. But when He gives us strength, He gives it in the most unexpected ways.
ReplyDeletePraying for some well days ahead.
It helps so much more than I could express that you have painted this picture of your weakness. Because I can relate. And while I don't rejoice in your lack or weakness, I take comfort in knowing others truly get it.
ReplyDeleteLately, I've felt so inadequate. Like nothing is right and all is wrong in my world. Like I no longer do any one thing well. Like the days of old when I kept such orderly schedules, sat down with family at the dinner table with the T.V. off and the unanswered phones ringing in the background, the days when the houseplants were alive because "I" kept them up, the days when I felt like I accomplished more.
I try to rejoice in the mundane, grey days, knowing that this lesson must be learned. When I feel like I've failed miserably before breakfast is finished. If we can even call it breakfast. These are the days that I "try" to remember that in weakness--MY WEAKNESS--His strength is made perfect.
Loved this! I loved to hear how God directed your path, and how you obeyed in your weakness. You really have a way with words...
ReplyDelete