I was poked a few days ago by a friend. 

It’s been a while since I sat over a keyboard and she was questioning, challenging and encouraging me, all at the same time.  That's what the people who know us and love us anyway do.  They poke.  Writing, at least writing something I’m going to post here, requires a lot of effort; a lot of blood, sweat and yes, sometimes tears. 

I’ve pondered off and on the whys of writing, particularly blogging.  Why do I do it?  What is my motivation?  I gotta be honest, when I first started this rather sporadic effort at blogging, it was largely cathartic.  I couldn't afford counselling and so this was how I unloaded.  There can be a freedom in writing.....when I'm honest and perhaps that's where I hit a wall.  Being honest is not easy, whether I'm writing or not.  At some point I found a safe place where I could unload; a place where I was in relationship with warm bodies that prayed for and encouraged  me and so....writing hasn't played much of a part in my life in quite a while.  After all, it is only as cathartic as I allow it to be. 

So I've been asking myself questions again.  I'm drawn to people who take their masks off and are honest.  I'm drawn to people who are real and am priviledged to have them share with me of their experiences.  I want to hear their stories, their struggles, their victories.  It's what makes them.....human and relatable and, so it makes sense to me that this is what I want to be.  That seldom easy; hence the aforementioned blood, sweat and tears.  However, I can attest to the fact that there is little of value in this life that comes easyily. 

And on this Good Friday that has given me pause to remember. 

Jesus.

He came to earth as a baby.  He was a young boy, similar to the boys I have running around here and yet....different.  He was God and he was man.  I'm reminded of his humanity in a simple prayer he prayed:

“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me…..

Ever prayed it?  Please, oh please oh please....not this God....anything but this!  We're invited into his struggle and the turmoil he must have felt knowing what was about to happen.

....nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.”   

He was the sacrificial lamb - the scape goat, for me and for you.  

Born to die so that I may live. 

 

Stinkin' Thinkin'

So I'm sitting with Rhys a few mornings ago and he's writing out his alphabet.  Sounds simple, eh?  He knows his alphabet and knows the sounds each letter makes but he struggles with recognizing some of the letters and writing the alphabet out takes him a while.  So while he's doing it, I'm sitting there beside him, trying to spur him on but I`m noticing that everything coming out of the boy's mouth is negative.  Everything.  He wasn't just whining about having to do it, he is saying stuff that was just....wrong! 

Though it wasn`t the first time he's complained about having to do school work (an academic he isn`t) and it wasn't the first time he's spoken negatively about himself (we call him Eyore) the effect it had on me was a first and I felt.....helpless.  I didn`t know what to do.  I knew I couldn`t do what I usually did and so I started to write:

"God, I see myself in Rhys.  The frustration and negativity.  The self-deprecation to the point where he doesn`t even want to try.  He`s lying to himself....but when he's encouraged, he beams!......He needs me; he needs me to encourage him.... He needs me to build him up......Thank you, Father; thank you for eyes to see. Help me to speak life."

Sometimes as a mom, God gives me one of those "teaching moments"; I love that. More often as a mom, God has given me "student moments".  Opportunities when He is showing me, reminding me of things that I am talking to one of the kids about.  In the past few weeks, I have watched as my children have shown courage, discipline, love, loyalty, forgiveness....to people in their sphere of influence, of which I am one, and I have been challenged to my core. 

While I'm writing, I'm crying.  I turn to my boy and say "Rhys, you're lying to yourself honey....don't believe those lies.  You are not stupid.  You are not an idiot.  You are a smart boy and you do like to learn.  I see you smile when you read; I see you smile, Rhys.  Sometimes it's hard, yes, but it is worth it honey.  It's hard now, yes, but you can do it, Rhys, and it will have been worth it!"

I don't know if I've communicated this well at all, but it was like someone flicked a switch; not only in my head (or more correctly in my thinking) but in my son and the little boy who was spouting such.....crap.....barrelled through his Word Building and then was on to his math, alternating between telling me how easy it was, and how much he loved me.  

"Can we do more, mom?" 

Yes Rhys; we can do more.  There is always more.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing.  Fix your thoughts

on what is true, and honourable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and

admirable.  Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. 

Phil 4:8 NLT