Wednesday, October 23, 2013

We Own the Night


Like the nocturnal creatures that roam and rule
against the crescent moon
and the sparkly stars cast in the murky, midnight-blue sky,
we own the night.
Night time.
Time to put to bed the fictitious cast of characters
that rule the day;
time to say goodnight to all of the imaginary playthings.
Time to reflect on the blessings that make life worth our strife and struggle.
It’s our special time- just me and my little boy.
We own the night!

The music lured me into his room- “Hey Jude” from Bedtime With the Beatles, softly cooed in the background.  Malachi was STILL awake – 10:30pm, eyes wide open!  I approached his bedside. His eyes wildly pointed to the Dynavox mounted to his bedside; he wanted me to turn it on for him. 

“No, Malachi.  It’s bedtime.  The Dynavox has gone to sleep and so should you!  Go to sleep, baby.”  
Malachi shut his eyes tight, then immediately popped them open.  I laughed out loud. 

“Malachi, did you just go to sleep?”

He blinked, “yes.”  His eyes darted back to the Dynavox and then to me, pleading…

I just shook my head at him as I smiled.  He was trying really hard to persuade me to turn on his communication device - most likely so that he could request a movie to watch.

“Mal, you need your rest.  You can have the Dynavox in the morning.  I promise.”

Malachi glanced longingly at the Dynavox and then back at me.

“How about I lay next to you while you fall off to sleep?  Can I lie down in your bed, Malachi?”

He fluttered his eyes – yes.

I scooted into Malachi’s bed and wrapped his arm across mine.  I looked at him and he looked right back at me, eyes dancing.  I leaned over and planted a ton of juicy kisses on his cheeks.

“I’m cold Malachi.  Can you share your blanket with me?”

Malachi fluttered his eyes, yes.

I grabbed his hand and placed mine over his.  Together we pulled the edges of his orange, Kente blanket across me.

“Thank you, Malachi.”
  His eyes fluttered.

We lay quietly together staring at the shapes on the ceiling as an all-instrumental version of “Penny Lane” hummed in the background.  Niiiice… 


At the close of the song, I peeked over at Malachi to see if sleep was beckoning.  Nope.  He was looking right at me! 

“Malachi, aren’t you sleepy?”

Long blink – Nooooooo!
I smirked and rolled my eyes.

“Ok, let’s see.  Let’s name all of the people who love  Malachi, okay?”

Quick flutter – yes.

“Does Mommy love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter – yes.

“Does Daddy love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter – yes.

Does Joshua love Malachi?”
Flutter, flutter – yes.

“Does Roscoe (our dog) love Malachi?”
 Blank stare.

“What about Nan?  Does Nan love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter – yes.

“Do Malachi’s nurses love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter – yes.  He was enjoying our exchange.

“Does our church family love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter – yes.

“And what about God?  Does God love Malachi?”
 Flutter, flutter, flutter! YES!!!


“That’s a lot of love, Malachi!”
 More emphatic flutters. 

My heart somersaulted with joy! It never ceases to amaze me that with all that Malachi has going on, he gets it; he knows that God truly loves him.  When I think about Malachi accepting his challenges, yet understanding God’s infinite love for him, I think about this bible scripture:

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.  We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.  2 Corinthians 4: 8-10


For me, that scripture says that the weight of our "cross" does not out weigh the love of our God. The infinite love of God restores, heals and liberates. And like Jesus, our suffering won't be in vain; we have our own resurrection to look forward to.  The remarkable gift of God's love is His saving grace.


Moments later, Malachi drifted off to sleep, but not before I snuggled him close and whispered this prayer in his ear:
Dear Lord,
Thank you for this day.  Thank you for your love, your mercy and your grace.  Thank you, God, for this special little boy who uses his eyes to speak his heart.  Thank you for the angels who protect and watch over us during the night.  Thank you for the stars and heaven that manifest dreams we never, ever imagined.  And thank you, Lord, for the magic of night; for her whispers of wisdom found in the still, quiet moments of your peace & amazing grace.  AMEN





Friday, October 11, 2013

Ordinary Me

Happy FMF - Five Minute Friday!
                                                Five Minute Friday
Five minutes to flow freely. No bustin' a sweat, over-editing and over thinking it.  Just WRITE!  LisaJo came up with this cool concept and now we're a community of free-flowing writers doing our thing and sharing the love.  Write.  Link-up here and send some encouragement to the muse who linked before you.
  Today's prompt: Ordinary.



Just ordinary people,
God uses ordinary people.
He chooses people just like me and you,
who are willing to do as He commands.
God uses people that will give Him  all,
no matter how small your all may seem to you;
because little becomes much 
as you place it in the Master's hands.  

Songartist : Danniebelle Hall & Moms Winans


He used me,
but I didn’t care; I wasn’t even mad about it
once I understood that it really wasn’t about me…
I guess you could say
I asked for it –
I asked to be used.

“His Co2 levels have dropped.  He only has about an hour left.  You have to make a decision..."

My beautiful baby boy’s fragile life hung 
in the balance 
and in a moment of desperation,
I made a promise – 
I promised Him my very best.  
I promised Him my all.  
I promised whatever He asked of me, I would do it,
if He would just 
let my baby 
        live...


He used me.
Me.
Unexceptional-in-any-significant-way-always-thinking-of-the-worst-case-scenario-play-it-safe, ME.
Just ordinary people.

He used me,
one EXTRAORDINARY God,
to share a story,
for the manifestation of His glory!
And 
I’m
so glad
He

did.

Monday, October 7, 2013

Mama Didn't Raise No Heathen!

As a young adult, I used to shun my Catholic upbringing; I strongly disliked going to Catholic school and Catholic church all of my life.  The nuns terrified me – they were pompous, mean penguins.  I detested the ugly, itchy plaid uniform skirts we had to wear and worst of all, the public school kids in my neighborhood hated my brother and I simply because – wait for it- we attended Catholic school; they chased us home every day and threatened to beat us up!  Like most good Catholics, by the time I entered my late 20’s, I was in therapy for all of my Catholic guilt issues.  What I disliked more than the nuns, the uniform and the daily threat of a beat down, were all of the Catholic church rituals we had to partake in – they were nonsense-cal as far as I was concerned.  Stand, sit, kneel.  Stand, sit, kneel…..


And let’s not forget going to confession in that tiny, claustrophobic booth.  I mean really, was saying 10 Our Father’s and 5 Hail Mary’s really going to save me from hell for stealing a Sweet n’ Sour sucker from the candy store?  As strong as my resentments were for all things Catholic, I harbored an equally strong resentment against my mother for insisting on raising us Catholic but not being Catholic herself. She never attended mass with my brother and I; she always sent the two of us by ourselves.  I wanted my mom there by my side, like all of the other families that came every Sunday for worship; I longed for her presence.  That was her mistake… As a result of my resentment, I vowed that when I had children of my own, I wouldn't send them off to church by themselves, but rather share in the worship experience with them.

Now that I’m all grown-up and raising my own family, I’m no longer a Catholic club card member. Christian, but not Catholic.  And I've relinquished all of my guilt and resentments of all things Catholic.  Moreover, I've gained a healthy perspective and a new found appreciation for what my mother did instill in my brother and I by insisting on raising us Catholic – she gave us a fundamental belief in God; a foundation that we could trust and a basis for worship.  Mama didn't raise no heathen!

Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if we indeed we share in His sufferings, in order that we may also share in His glory.  Romans 8:17


My oldest son, Joshua, asked if he could skip going to church today.  He explained that if he went to church today, he wouldn't be able to complete all of his chores and homework in time to catch the NFL game and a rare opportunity to play video games with a friend.  Skip church?  How did he determine that church/worship would be the “something” that he would have to give up in light of all that he had to do?  For a moment I had a Catholic-church-flashback.  I remembered my outlandish attempts to ditch going to mass on Sunday and I had to wonder, does Josh have that same angst about the church to which we belong?  Nah!  Josh loves our church and they love him; they've embraced us as family.  And Josh loves going to church with his family – serving together, worshiping together and fellow-shipping together.  Josh wanting to skip church was just him being a typical teenager and Josh wanting to “do” Josh.  You can bet your rosary beads that this mama ain't raising no heathens either!