smooth stones

On rainy days of the soul, like today, I wonder... how will this broken woman be used for the kingdom?  When I am feeling scared and weary, how will I battle to cling to truth?  I have moments when I feel as though I might suffocate.  It is then that I cry out, and I hear my Daddy saying... "Stop looking at the giant... keep your eyes on me.  The sling and stones I have placed in your hands are all that you need to accomplish your assignment."  Truth is a hard thing to fight for... especially when the rain beats hard and tries to drown.

A couple of days ago my little prince cut a chunk out of his baby chin on the bathroom counter.  The cut is stitches worthy, but we are trying other methods first.  My momma's heart aches for him as any momma's would.  He has been a trooper.

Last night he got to sit in a "big boy" seat for the first time at dinner.  I know... long overdue but in our house it's a reward for those that keep the "unmentionables" dry.  He had a successful day and got rewarded.  He was so so thrilled.  We shared the excitement.  I was curious how he would handle being at the table.  I was shocked by what came!

He decided to bless.

By his own choice he decided in his heart that he wanted to spend our meal time rubbing my back.  He knows it hurts a lot and so he longed to be a tool of healing. 

His broken chin and tiny fingers brought healing to my body and soul.  Last night I feasted on the meal of servanthood.

Serving out of brokenness is a choice.  It requires constant refueling on the only thing that what will nourish us so we can continue to pour out.   We must be intentional.  We must eat the truth that sustains.

I know I am blessed.  I have more blessings than I can count.  All I could do during dinner was look at Pastor and giggle.  Elliott has NEVER done this before and even when I gave him permission to rest he rubbed all the harder.  He was focused... determined... his eyes and heart were fixed on his assignment.  

I finally had to convince him to pause... to eat... to rest.  As he went to rest and finish his own meal he was giddy.  A few moments back into his seat he slipped and cracked his chin on our kitchen table.. the exact same spot.  Blood was flowing... tears were pouring... and emotions ran high.  I cried out for mercy on his behalf.  It was my turn to minister to the broken.  Again, I felt scared... trapped... how do I choose wisdom?  Do we rush off to the E.R.?  How do I console this frightened one when I feel equally scared.  It is then, again, that I must rub my smooth stones and remember that I have been given exactly what I need to minister. 

Last night is kind of how I see our newest adventure.  I will pour out my broken self to the other children of brokenness and offer a meal of tears and truth. 

Many moments will feel scary, intimidating, and chaotic.  I know that WE are in a battle... so I will rub my smooth stones often and remind myself that what I need to bring healing to the broken has already been given to me.  I just have to be faithful to see passed the giant.