Tuesday, October 9, 2012


I sat in her chair, my hair soaking wet from the wash of her gentle hands.

She begins to section my hair and asks what is the length and style of my desired cut.  I reply and she begins working at a comfortable pace.  She doesn't seem in a rush to get me out of her chair, but rather relishes the fact that I am there.  She lingers.

I begin to ask about her daughter.  And as if waiting to be asked she begins sharing.  And once she begins, she doesn't seem to want to stop.  I begin to pray and ask Jesus that she would see HIM and sense HIS great love for her.  

Maybe she thinks she is talking too much.  She silences.  I prod a bit and she commences yet again.  And not in a chatty, gossipy manner either.  But rather collectively sharing her heart with me.  And she's not selective.  She shares her joy, success and heartache and heart break all at the same time.  

She's been through a lot and a lot of pain is in her heart although her gracious smile hides it rather well. But it's when she's not smiling you can see that pain.  Maybe that's why she chooses to speak and share?  

She tells me of her estranged children.  She has seven.  God has blessed her.

And yet, two of them do not speak to her.  "They act as if I don't exist," she confessed to me.

As soon as she stated it, she brushes it aside and talks about the abundant love she receives from her other children.  But the pain, it's there.

She continues by telling me that they don't understand and don't appreciate what she's done for them.  They don't appreciate the sacrifice she made for their welfare.

I understand. 

She thought in giving them the best opportunity, she gave them the best.

I understand.

They feel abandoned and rejected--unloved.

I understand.

In giving them the best opportunity, she neglected giving of the best--herself to her children.  And now the rejected, reject.  

They don't know Jesus.  They don't understand that He's the best.  She couldn't give because she didn't have and now they don't receive because they don't have Jesus.

I come home.  Elated at the fact that I had prayed about who would cut my hair.  At the fact that God blessed me with listening to her story and enjoying her conversing with me, a total stranger.  Before, I leave she beckons me return and not "get lost."  

No I am not lost and don't want to get lost, although I once was and terribly so.  I know Jesus!

I am now in bed and relate the events in brevity to my husband.  He's tired, falling asleep.  Then the Lord begins to speak to me.  Reminding me of the children.  How we are to be like them.  

He reminds me of her hurting children who weren't interested in the blessings their mother tried to give them but rather the blessings they craved at having her by their side.

Jesus reminds me to be like the little children.  To want to be near him rather than the blessings He gives.  He reminds me of the sacrifice He made to have me near, that I could be near.  He reminds me to desire that above all else.  And in that reminding, I am convicted.  

He wants me near.  Yet, I am the child.  I must want to be near.  I must look at the sacrifice at Calvary and draw near.  I must think of His sacrifice and proceed near boldly.  I must look to the One who sacrificed and yearn near.  

I understand.

His sacrifice made near possible.  

I understand.

But will I draw near?  Will you?

Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.
James 4:8


  1. Blessing!!! Lord, i want to be near! remove from my heart and surroundings every distraction that attempts to keep me away from you.


  2. There are so many things I could relate to in this post.
    As mother's we can try to reason so many things that we think are the best for our children. However, we should always look toward the Lord to direct and guide us.


May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. Psalm 19:14