Kids, Life, Love

Campfire contemplation

We recently took a family camping trip.  I’m not sure if it was the beauty of the night sky or simply insomnia but I was up in the wee hours to kindle the fire and muse.

Here it is:

Sitting here by the fire in my hoodie, I contemplate life as I sip my coffee. Instant Taster’s Choice…. It is anything but- the coffee, I mean.

Anyhow, I am so thankful for my family peacefully snoozing in the “8 person tent” (always subtract at least 2 when buying a new tent) behind me. I wonder a moment at my love for them.  How have these persons shaped me? Created a better being simply by entering the world.

I wonder if I have helped them enough.  Have I made them resilient and strong enough? Have I prayed for them as much as I could have? I find myself coming up short in so many ways.

I cannot undo what is done or return to moments past. We all get one shot.  I have loved my children fiercely- manically at times. Holding onto them as if I would break.  Maybe I would have.

My grasp on their world loosens as they grow.  I see beauty in the people they are becoming. I am so thankful for the positive influences and people around them that helped shape their lives. And yet, I miss the little days.  The hold my hand days- read me a story days.

I want to erase every angry word, every frustrated outburst – but I cannot.This is the irony and yet perfection of God’s plan.  If we could redo it would we be even more careless knowing we could always go back and fix it? It keeps me humble and looking forward to a better tomorrow.

I’m sure most mothers can relate,  How many times has our crown slipped? How many times did our rule as Queen Mama become a tyranny? You are not alone.  We have a God who believes in grace.  So much, in fact that He showered us with it.  I am learning (I’m a slow learner sometimes) to apply that to myself.  I’m not perfect- no one expects me to be. Except maybe me……

Today, Veronica, I give you grace.  I officially have permission to be human.  It is a gift I am giving to myself.

I look into the small fire before me. I watch the pieces of wood smoke then catch. Then it suddenly blossoms into flames.  I think of the scripture about the smoking flax.

…A bruised reed he will not break and smoking flax shall he not quench… Matthew 12:20

That’s me.  Smoking flax. I’ve been worn and I have failed at times but I am not finished.  I’m going to polish off my crown.  God is in charge of this fire.

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