Sunday, February 9, 2014

Hide And Seek

Sooooooo…before I unpack the thoughts in my head that prompted this post, umm, remember last week when I was talking about how Butterbean moved out of my house?


She's back.

I know.  If you listen closely you can hear the metallic clickety-clack of the cars on this roller coaster lining up to take yet another plunge into that happy little place I like to call Dante's Inferno.

Oh wait, is that name taken?


Without going into tons of details here, let me make clear that Butterbean and her baby brother Buster are both safe, loved, and well-cared for by their mom and dad.  It's just that their mom and dad are young, and as such, they don't yet have the benefit of the wisdom that comes with age and experience.

Plus, I apparently haven't learned all I need to learn about God through Butterbean and Buster.  So He's decided to give me another crack at it.

And since misery loves company I'm a generous soul, how's about hopping in the car and suffering thru a minor case of whiplash with me as we barrel towards this coaster's first incline?  Oh come on.  Suck in that gut and push down the safety bar!  It'll be fun.  I promise.

So yeah.  Butterbean.  And me.  And God.  Together again.

Butterbean is two now and one of her favorite night-time rituals is to be up on my lap, snuggled into her  "pinka" (that's 'Beanspeak for 'blanket') rocking slowly back and forth in the glider.

And I confess, I don't exactly dislike that time with her.

Tonight, prior to the 'pinka' and the rocking and resultant snuggle-fest, Butterbean and I ended up in an impromptu game of hide and seek.

As in, I needed to go to the bathroom and what with Butterbean's affection for me, my bid for 5 minutes of privacy entails some Bond-like maneuvers that would make Jason Bourne weep with unrestrained envy.

'Cause y'all…Butterbean is just that good.

She knows my buttons and pushes them with all the accompanying joy and abandonment she can muster.

Plus, it doesn't help much when your heart turns into a whimpering pile of goo at the mere hint of oncoming cute-ness.

So…hide and seek.  I was hiding.  She was seeking.  And for once, I managed to elude her for a minute.

Y'all I can't even describe the feelings of absolute delight listening to that little voice as she conversed with her mother while she tried to find me.  I had such a time not giving myself away with my giggles as she searched the laundry basket looking for me.  (Bless her heart for thinking my behind could fit into it.)

Just hearing her say "Mimi" and ask her Mommy in 'Beanspeak where I was sent little jolts of happy into my system.  To say that my heart belongs to her is an understatement.

Now, I fully intended to reveal myself to Butterbean.  But the deliciousness of listening to her little mind work as she searched for me, and the anticipation of the look on her face when I came out of hiding…it was worth the effort of concealment.

If you have a beloved child in your life, perhaps you've played this game.  Because you know how precious the sound of those little feet running toward you are, how irreplaceable the sight of those little arms flung open wide as they move toward you in expectation of hugs, how indescribable it is to feel those little lips as they press against your cheek in a kiss, how the scent of that tiny head obliterates your heart as you are wrapped in the most joyous embrace.

It's during these types of moments that the Holy Spirit will speak to me.  Nothing profound.  Nothing earth-shattering.  Most often, it's just little flashes of 'aha' moments.

Tonight I thought, "No wonder.  No wonder He sometimes hides Himself."

If the way I feel about my Butterbean is the palest shade of grey in comparison to the incomprehensible rainbow of His feelings toward me…then it is no wonder.

And it makes me all the more eager to find Him.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Shattered, Scattered, Smothered and Covered

Gosh, I was a little scared to come back here.  Didn't even know if Blogger had saved my seat.  Mystery solved! (Thanks Blogger!) Insert nervous chuckle and handwringing here.

Shew.  This place smells and looks like the very thing that moved me to post today.


I've tasted a lot of it.  Take my word for it, it tastes nasty.  Maybe even worse than Regret.  I'm not sure, but I do know that even the mention of those words leave an acrid, bitter aftertaste in my mouth.


So many things have happened since my last post.  Butterbean moved out of my house…my son graduated high school and went into the Marines, and I became a Mimi for the 2nd time with the arrival of little Buster, who is now approaching 6 months old.  I got inexplicably mad at God, as if somehow all the upheaval was His fault instead of just being the natural order of things, and promptly went into a long and protracted pity party.

Good times.

So the weight loss goal? Chucked it.

Slightly witty writing that hopefully lifted someone's day a bit?  Gone.

But the navel-gazing?  Check.

Crying incessantly and doing my best to drive my loved ones to the brink? Oh yeah, baby.

Depression, despair and disillusionment?  Yep.

There were a few other things in there as well, but I'm pretty sure you've got the general idea.  For the last 6 months or so, I've been a self-absorbed, myopic, asinine, and miserably boring pain in the ass.

I know…the language…but really, is there any other way to put it without sounding ridiculously pious?

So what's changed?  Why now? Why here?  Why would I think anyone even cares?

All I can tell you is God.  Again.


I whine, cry, throw myself down on the ground and throw ashes all over myself.  He stands there, maybe rolls His eyes a bit at the drama, and He patiently holds out His hand and waits.  And waits.  And waits some more.

Every so often, a friend will stop by, see the spectacle, look at God, look at me, shake their head and sigh a bit.   Then, (for reasons known only to Him) because God has given them a love for me, they'll speak a bit of truth into me.

For instance:

A couple of months ago, at a church function, I was whining to some friends about how I was having some "issues" with God.  My friend very wisely looked at me and said, "It doesn't matter.  He doesn't really care."

Now, my friend wasn't saying that God didn't care about me.  Obviously, He does.  What he was pointing out was that my "issues" weren't big enough to scare God off.  God didn't care if I had issues or not.  He loved me regardless.

I stopped sniveling just long enough to let that sink in.  And Despair lost some of its grip.

So…here I am again.  Scarred and not a little bit sheepish, but ready to share more information than you really want to know once more.  Forgive my absence…and please forgive any silliness that may come from this point on.

I must say, I've missed you.  You look lovely.

I know, sweetie.  The winter has been long and dark and cold.

But, say it with me, spring is coming…and with it all the hope and joy and promise that He has set aside for His own…His beleaguered, battered and beloved.

So stick with me a little longer, eh?  It's gonna be a fun ride.