I watch her direct her brothers, reacting to their faults, and I see me. I see the weaknesses in me that I want to change. Or don’t want to change, so I sit paralyzed in ungratefulness or oversensitivity or control. Me.
But focusing upon her imperfections entangles. And his burden is light. My call is not to “fix” the waywardness. My mommy-call has always been the same--to train, to guide, and to love. Just as my Lord so tenderly raises me.
When my Father-Maker looks patiently upon his daughter, he does not glare at the unfinished product irritated by it’s slow coming. He sees my tomorrow transformation and builds towards it.
But focusing upon her imperfections entangles. And his burden is light. My call is not to “fix” the waywardness. My mommy-call has always been the same--to train, to guide, and to love. Just as my Lord so tenderly raises me.
When my Father-Maker looks patiently upon his daughter, he does not glare at the unfinished product irritated by it’s slow coming. He sees my tomorrow transformation and builds towards it.
He smiles...
No comments:
Post a Comment