When Life Throws A Curve

Walked behind my boy, wrapped both arms tight around him this morning.  He turned around, laid his head on my shoulder.  I felt his whole body go limp.  We stay there for moment, quiet. He finally pushes back, stands there looking at me with eyes glassy, nose runny, shoulders slumped.  A day of school seems like climbing Mt. Everest today. He exhales, lifts his book bag around his shoulder and smiles.  That, “don’t worry Mom”, smile that pokes at my heart.

My kids got the annual Labor Day virus that seems to move like a wild fire through the halls and into the classrooms where they spend their days.  It sucks life, makes them fuzzy headed, unmotivated.

When they were small, this would keep them home with me until they were better.  Now they are older, they learn to push through.  Because missing a day of school now is detrimental.

Last night, the school board in our community recognized Harrison for achieving a perfect score on the ELA portion of the standardized PASS test, an uncommon honor.  He is one of two students in his grade to attain this kind of success.  When we got the letter he jumped up and down, screamed with joy, couldn’t believe it.

He missed the ceremony.  Didn’t feel like he had the energy to sit in a crowded room, walk up to receive the award.  So we stayed home.  I made his favorite Mexican food. 

My heart aches over what he missed.  This is not a do-over event. But I accept what I cannot control.

A Gentle Reminder

When they settle into school this morning, I take a walk with my faithful dog.  I love this time of day.  The cool air, water like glass on ponds, bird chattering, conversations that echo through the stillness as people water flowers, do outside chores throughout the neighborhood. 

Every morning is like starting over.  I wonder what has He written in my book of life today?

I notice the swells of circles radiating out on the ponds, indicating what lies underneath that in unseen.  Then this verse echoes in my mind like a gift:  The earth was empty, a formless mass cloaked in darkness.  And the Spirit of God was hovering over its surface. – Genesis 1:2

The word hovering, stands out like someone shouting through a megaphone. I am paying attention as I walk around the bend.

He hovers . . . . 

Over the earth. 

Over my kids. 

Over my husband. 

Over me.

Over you.

In the stillness.

In the quiet.

In the chaos.

When we are weak.

When we are strong.

When we don’t understand.

He hovers.

All my worries, all my doubts, all my questions, all my fears wrapped in His goodness.  These words unfold grace, bring perspective, help me breathe, give peace. 

He hovers over you today.  Do you know it?

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