Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Truth Under my Fingernails

This evening we made our inaugural visit to Zimmerman's flower stand. We waltzed in for a little duck poop....we trudged out with a lot of duck poop. And a few perennials, because I momentarily misplaced my self-control switch.

After caramel sundaes, we whisked the babies off to their beds. We smooched little baby lips and breathed in 3 distinctly perfect baby smells. We whispered prayers and answered those last-minute, so-very-important questions, "Mommy, is Jesus sitting right here, beside me?" "What if I accidentally poke him?"

Then, we walked right back out into what remained of the dusky, dry daylight and got our hands dirty.

There exists a directly proportional relationship between the amount of dirt caked beneath my rinky-dink fingernails and the clearness of my heart.

I am convinced of this - Truth finds me in the dirt. It burrows into the cracks of me, it chaps my hands in such a way that I still feel the sting the next day.

I poked around, fiddling with the fun stuff, while Cory did the hard things. I watched him chop-chop-chop at roots that ran so deeply. I watched him yank the ugly out and toss it onto the heap. We talked about what we would put in its place. We knew that there was a chance that the ugly would still pop up out of the newer, prettier growth.

In our shared solitude, I found my heart asking those same, familiar questions...."What is it that you want me to do, God?" "In what way will you use me?" "When will I know?"

As the sun dipped too low, I made my way inside. I scrubbed those chapped hands.

I sat down to fold the third load of laundry and the cotton snagged against the scrapes and the sandpapered fingertips.

And the truth that was etched into them outside found its way inside, where my real life is lived.

Oh that life could be all Delphinium and English Daisies. Mostly, it is laundry. And library books. And today, whining children and a frustrated Mommy that probably did not smile as often as she should have.

So tonight, I know this: I know that what God wants me to do today, tomorrow, the day after, is have patience as I hold the three little hands through the ins and outs of our days; ask for wisdom in instructing them to do right; appreciate my Honey for every good thing that he is.

It is not grandiose.
But it will change our lives.

It will not be written about in books or talked about on the news.
But it is Epic.

And so, my prayer continues....
Let my lips breath love.
Let my heart beat for others.
Let my heart bleed service.

And let it all start right here, under our own, little patch of sky.