![]() There must be a place.” Her husband shook his head in bewilderment. A woman large and pregnant moaned to her husband in the dimly lit cobblestone street, ”Please, we must find somewhere to stay. Now, Father in Heaven, it’s time for your tired girl to look up….at You. I watched the sleep overtake him, enjoying the beautiful picture of a tired son finding rest. My little son is sleeping now, tucked under his blanket. When I see that He is not far away, but rather intimately involved in the picture of my life, I calm down and find a smile creeping up to my lips, begging for an outlet. When I see that it is His arms around me, I relax. When I see that He is smiling over me, enjoying me, I see myself in a new light. When I look up and see my Father’s face, everything tends to come into perspective. So many times I look in the mirror of life and my heart is unsettled. I turn from the mirror, again wanting to help him wind down so he can fall asleep. He is satisfied that it is indeed himself, seeing that he’s in Mama’s arms, and he relaxes. I love his love.Īfter a moment of sharing smiles, my son returns his gaze to the little boy in the mirror. I can see it, even from behind his pacifier. A big Edward-smile breaks across his face. Often he thinks his little face is exciting, but this time he appears pensive, unsure. Wonderful time up there soundtrack full#He sees his round little face full of a pacifier, not sure what to think of himself. Haven’t we all a certain level of fascination with those? Cheering him on in his quest of discovery (a mommy’s decision making skills would be another study, to be sure!) I move to the right so he can get a glimpse of the two of us. Gradually I realize that he has caught sight of something: the mirror. How a baby’s decision making skills work can baffle me all day. I rock him in my arms, tucking his blanket tighter as he suddenly determines he’s not longer planning to go to sleep. I fill up on the messages swirling around me of doom and gloom until there’s no room left for the true saga of indomitable hope.īut what if people laugh at us because we still sing of The Day that is coming? What if they think we are the weird ones because they stopped singing and we carried on? What if our voices are lone and solitary in their song? What if we are the only ones singing when That Day is suddenly here in all its splendor? Sometimes I lose focus of what the future really holds for the righteous. I stop singing just because I can’t hear those around me singing on. (Granted, that’s simply not true and the faithful sing on.) Sometimes we become corporately distracted and our songs of hope and expectation die away mid-chorus as we are caught up in the hullabaloo of what is happening around us. Sometimes it seems that the whole world is losing their song. I realized that my song had only been a dream.īut as I fed him, I pondered. I was unfazed, continuing on in my lone soprano voice, “what a day, glorious day, that will be.” Everyone turned now to stare at me and chuckle.Īnd then my little boy sleeping beside me jabbed into my side as he did a push up and turned to wake me. The attention of everyone else was diverted to something happening in the back of the building and they all stopped mid-song. I was sitting in a congregation and we were all singing together, “There is Coming A Day”. In that day, so many dreams will be coming true. A new era is coming! The Lion named Jesus will reign and He will make all things wonderfully new. What are the secret desires whispering deep in your soul? If they cannot find their fulfillment here and now.take heart. “You want to ride a Lion, Sweetie?” I said softly. I remembered that Isaiah truly saw ahead to a new day where lions will have a reign of peace beside lambs. The strength and fearlessness flashing in those eyes became those of the conquering Lion of Judah for whom we wait and long. “Oh yeah?” My racing thoughts of a tiny girl sitting on a wild, dangerous and fearless beast shifted as I continued gazing at the painting glowing up at us. I turned towards her with a grin of surprise and encouragement at this sudden unveiling of her secret wish. Then with a sudden breath of longing she broke the silence: “Someday, I want to ride a lion.”ĭecisively, she gave a few concluding nods of her little head. Joy watched quietly for a minute or two, inadvertently pinning my arm as I tried to type and send. My daughter and I gazed together through the screen to the majestic lion likeness, whose fearlessly stedfast expression was nearly mesmerizing. Thanks to Pinterest, I could send someone’s beautiful lion painting to my husband as a little mid-day-courage-card with a few fitting words. We cuddled together, blankets and fuzzy socks attesting to the struggle to stay warm in the cold of a Mafraq winter. ![]()
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