"Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago." Isaiah 25:1 NIV
I sit here, basking in the sweet sound of keys being gracefully, intentionally played. The deep scent of vanilla is carried around me as flames burn bright, flickering and dancing. This is my sweet spot, the thin place where dimensions collide allowing Him and I to dance in the here and now, and yet also in the there and then, at the exact same moment in time. It's a feeling one cannot truly put into words: the openness and depth that comes to a soul and spirit. If I could make moments like these last a lifetime and beyond, I surely would.
At present I feel quite fragile emotionally. Not in a negative way, necessarily, but in a more or less bittersweet fashion.
Brushing Matthew's teeth this evening, he told me that he didn't quite want to go to heaven to see Jesus yet. I played along, prompting him to carry on by asking him why that was. In his innocence, he told me that he just wanted to be born, like Jesus was, and then he wanted to grow, bigger and taller and stronger, just like Jesus did. After that he would be ready to go to heaven. I affirmed that that sounded like such a great plan, to which he carried on, excitedly telling me that when he gets to heaven and sees God, he's going to say, "Hello God!" in a very enthusiastic voice. And then my sweet boy is going to wrap his arms around his heavenly Father, giving Him the biggest hug ever. The part that melted this Mama heart though, is when Matthew told me what happens next: God said, "Hello, Matthew James Kurek!" And the two of them went off to play Lego together.
While telling Damien of Matthew's conversation about going to heaven, it was asked if I knew what brought it on. To be completely honest, I have no idea. But what I am sure of is that it was not a coincidence, and that the Lord had something to speak to me through it.
I've been hurting, and quite extensively at that. The reason behind all of this pain isn't wholly known. I'm unsure if part of it is a reflection of the Father's heart, or of the aches that always accompany growth and being stretched, or of the little hurts that have buried themselves in my heart over the course of this last season, hurts that I've quickly shoved under the rug, not giving my heart due time to fully rest in the feelings so that I can fully heal and move forward. Maybe it could be a combination of two of the aforementioned, or better yet, all three.
Regardless of the cause or reasonings, the reality is that these feelings exist. They are there to be heard and felt fully in their depth and breadth for as long as needed. And looking to my sweet boy and his delightfully painted picture of entering glory, I am mercifully reminded that He sees me, that He knows me, and that He has me.
He will see me through, as is in accordance with His perfect faithfulness.