scratching

I just have a few thoughts bumbling about, scratching at the surface of my limited ability for conscious thinking in between husband, house, kids, church, playdates, blah blah blah. This idea of the redemptive love of Christ, that what he wants more than anything from anyone who claims him is love. Love for him, for our Father, love for others more than for ourselves.

We don't live this way much in America.

I want to be different.

I want to make EVERY decision based on whether or not it will show his love and mercy to my fellow man (or mostly likely, mom). I don't just want to scream and shout about how great God is through this blog or social networks, I want to prove it by being like Him to those who have never seen Him for themselves and especially now, for my children. And this is hard, this ebbing and flowing between conviction and losing track. I go weeks in patience and love with Asher, then one night of sleep deprivation and I snap, I lose control. I yell and damage his fragile heart and I wonder if a seed for the evil one isn't stored in that moment. That frightens me, those invisible seeds. Sometimes that wave of fear is more like a delicately splashed puddle, other times like the after math of tsunami.

Every day I try to remember "we can do no great things, only small things with great love."

I can send out hurt, but I can also say I'm sorry in humility, genuine and unassuming. I can hope that those smalls acts of redemption are enough to carry us all through.