She was curled up in the big, over-sized chair.
The cats were at her feet, warm and contentedly purring.
How nice it was to see her relaxing and stitching again ~ my sweet Louise.
When she paused to see what I was doing in the kitchen she asked,
“What are those white marks across the cabinets?”
Then began the ripples of memories.
…
I shared with her that those ‘white marks’ were from the step stool that she needed to reach the kitchen counter when she was little ~
The late afternoon in June when she was only four. She stood on the second step, rolling out dough for strawberry-rhubarb pie, still in her swimsuit from the sunshine adventures earlier in the day.
Or the Sunday morning in her third year. After church, she was squeezing the juice from a dozen beautifully textured oranges, twisted halves dripping sticky, sweet and delicious.
And the numerous dish-doing opportunities to play in the soapy bubbles : ) Those helpful moments that often ended with her sitting on the counter with her tiny feet in the sink, splashy toes in the running water.
…
Those days were so long ago.
Part-time work and preschool painting.
The ‘wonder years’…
I frequently find myself wondering where they went.
Now, life often seems like a blur.
Days whirring by like trains on cold, steel railings.
Each train car, a day ~ filled with intention and purpose, carried swiftly into the distance.
Some days veering onto another track, distractions in life, pulling us off course ~ not always arriving at our intended destination.
These days become weeks. Weeks become months, and eventually years.
On occasion, we take time to ride the caboose and peer into our past. We contemplate choices we have made and the patterns of our lives.
How do we choose to spend our time?
With whom do we find ourselves spending it?
Do our calendars and checkbooks reflect our true priorities?
…
In this world, we can find ourselves enslaved to commitments and succumbing to expectations.
Sometimes our own. Sometimes those that other people have for us.
All the while, temporarily blinding us to the simple treasures.
Family and friends.
Life with our senses.
Our health.
Laughter and love.
Every now and then, life has a way of pulling the emergency brake. Wheels locked, skidding and halting us to a stop.
…
I had been feeling so stuck. So out of touch.
Moving through the motions of my days.
Working the plan.
I was taking care of the schedule ~ getting to work and Emma to school and extracurriculars. Paying the bills. Housework. Occasional prayer.
My life…this is fine, right?
Wrapped in overwhelm, I paused for a breath one day to peek in at my daughter.
I saw a sullen and sad girl in her room. The door closed, again.
In my selfish and hurried pace of life, I had unknowingly been disconnecting from her. I was consumed with running errands and marking things off of my lists. Somehow thinking I was accomplishing ~ therefore, I was on track.
Wrong.
Suddenly I saw her.
I put myself into her shoes. My beautiful, but lonely child.
In the midst of teenage identity, she was struggling to find herself in this confusing and erratic time.
As an only child, she has had to spend more time at home helping out than most, balancing her domestic and academic duties.
She is aching to be loved by her earthly father who has abandoned her on so many levels.
Overcome by her own middle-school world of homework and assignment deadlines, she was experiencing the pressures of growing up.
My heart ached as I stood there, and really saw her.
I came to her quietly. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug.
Softly, I whispered in her ear that I am always available to listen to her and to help her when she needs anything.
She turned to me, and her sweet voice began to crack as she cried and hugged me tightly.
Painful sobs poured from her weary and broken heart.
“Oh, Mommy…I thought that being a teenager meant that you had to do it all on your own.”
…
How blessed we are to have a Heavenly Father who is there to pull us close, and to remind us of His great love for us.
His Word promising that we are never alone.
He is the Comforter in our time of wandering and confusion.
His is the only Love that will never leave or forsake us.
He alone, can direct our path and give us the clarity we need in this blurred and hurried life.
…
This life, as I watch my little counter-top chef teetering not on that stool, but instead at the door of her high school years.
My beautiful, amazing, gifted, funny and passionate God-girl is growing up.
It’s so easy for me to get caught up in the fear of what the future will bring. Or not bring, for that matter.
Sometimes busyness is my escape from the painful transitions of life. I hold tight to my aching heart and create for myself the illusion that I am fine.
God knows otherwise.
Anticipating the day that my sweet Louise will leave our cozy nest, I find myself filling the hours with thoughtless diversions. Consequently, my tired, human days can seem to move at lightning speed.
But when I close my eyes and whisper “Jesus”, I know peace.
I know that He is pulling me out of chaos and into His arms.
Psalm 46:10
He says,
“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”
Only in His Holy presence, can we slow down enough to see the blessings of this life.
When we choose God, we choose gratitude.
With a grateful heart, I again discover the gift of being Emma’s mama, right here. Right now.
I can simply be present with her, knowing that she is God’s child first.
And in that I can rest.
For He has all of her days in His great hands.
…
If you ever come to my house…on the wall you will see a random letter ‘b’.
It hangs by a satin ribbon, among the memories and the sayings.
This is my visual reminder to simply “be” in this life.
Our Father asks nothing more of us, but to be still…
and know that He IS God.
Our glorious, wonderful, able-to-slow-down-time with His presence, Almighty God.
Amen.
My Sweet Louise 
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