reflection...

...what is it about George Winston that gets me reflecting on life... reflecting in that way that gives you big eyes in your mind and broad view of the past, the present, the future in such a way that makes it feel so huge yet so finite at the same time? That way that scours the top of it all to feel all at once how meaningful your experience has been in spite of the pain, and that it has brought you such beauty, the beauty that you see and hold and touch now, and makes you want to leave a legacy and love so deeply it hurts and remember that this is what counts every day of your life? I dunno... I guess (to bring it back around), that George has been around since I was a wee one... and I remember listening to it as a child and I have these films of memories in my mind of long drives through east Tennesee with 'Autumn' in the tape deck or 'December' playing in the background while we tried to make fun out of our dysfunction and memories that would last each Christmastime.

These moments are so healing for me. I had one tonight while I was cutting up greens and pineapple and strawberries so they would get eaten and wouldn't spoil. The thought process can get a bit morbid at times, because it often involves thoughts of "what would happen if" or "how would I cope if"... and it usually begins with thoughts of something awful happening to Jason. I usually don't think this way unless he's away (he's gone to an appointment tonight)and I am praying for angels to protect him as he drives to wherever he's going. Then I realize how much I love him and how deeply connected we are, and how desperately hopeless and destitute I would be if anything ever happened to him. Then I look at my precious Shiloh, and I realize one day she will not have us, and what kind of woman will she be, and will she struggle along the way or can I pray hard enough that God would spare her trouble and pain in her life? Then I fear for her, because I love her so much, and I hope I can remember the beauty of her innocence and all the smallness of her, and her voice and sounds and smiles and movements, and remember that will always be the Father's view of her - a helpless child who needs Him always. Then I think of Dakota, and my heart just aches... he has endured so many of my mistakes and I long to make it all better. I wish there was something I could do, but time does nothing for us except heal, so they say, and I know my God works with that time and with the blessing of the life we have now. And that there is hope and love surrounding us and that he will be okay because of that. My precious boy, I love him so and I want him to know it to his very soul.

I want to leave a legacy... I don't want to just have my plans, our plans are all pretty neat - yes, we desire to be self-sustaining, but does that isolate us from the body of Christ and from the world who needs to see Jesus with skin on - the Bride in action? Maybe... But what does the Father have in store? We say "here we are Lord, send us"... and that's all we can say. We learn to trust His voice and His leading, and we watch Him move around us and in our lives and we hear Him and follow. That's all we have. So much of our lives hinge on what is tangible... How awesome would it be to find a place of trust in the supernatural and those things that we cannot see with our eyes, touch with our hands or drain from our bank accounts.

Isaiah 6:8 - "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"

Isaiah 26:8 - Yes, LORD, walking in the way of your laws, we wait for you; your name and renown are the desire of our hearts.