Cross Clinging

Nothing in my hand I bring,
simply to the cross I cling;
naked, come to thee for dress;
helpless, come to thee for grace...


~Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me
Augustus M. Toplady, 1740-1778

These past weeks have been a bit bleak around here.  So many different urgent situations demanding Mama's time and energy.  I look around and take in the tall mountainside of laundry, the empty refrigerator, the backlog of school assignments.  The thought of getting back on top of it all too overwhelming.

The poor baby is still not at his best.  He'll seem better for a few days and then spend a night awake in the dark, heat seeping from every pore and the saddest little whimpers escaping his sweet lips.  I spend nights rocking and soothing and days trying to muster the energy to do the rest of it while he howls and clings to me.

Every night the kids ask "What's for dinner?" and I've got to face down another aspect of life that has simply been neglected while I tend to life's random emergencies.  It hardly seems fair, I think.  That my world, my jobs keep on piling up even when I feel like I'm burning the candle at both ends.

My contentment takes a serious hit and its hard for me to see beyond this, get that much needed dose of perspective.  Others on the outside can see, but I just feel like I'm doing it all and yet doing none of it well.  How do I "just do the next thing" when there are so many "next thing"'s to do?

He cries, again.  I rush in, gather him up in strong Mama arms and his face finds my neck, showers me with hot tears.  And then, without even looking, his chubby hand reaches up and finds it, the chain around my neck.  Dimpled fist clasps around stark simple cross, and he clings while I rock, smooth edges branding his palm.

And I'm struck again and again at the whispers of Him all around me, even as I spend my life just buzzing from one task to the next.  Every day I am shown His grace and love through these interactions, and every day I am blown to pieces.

 I am just a toddler in this world, sobbing into my Father's neck, clinging to His cross.  And He is strong and He will not let go, and I am safe here.  I am nothing, this all is nothing, save for Him.

These reminders are what it takes for me to take a closer look and find grace in the darkest of places.  For although the vice of stress grips me, seeing His hand all around soothes me and I can breathe again.  If I could learn to take the good with the bad and just keep on living, I might be able to chalk up each day to a wild tangle of God's goodness.

So the kid's make a fort, right there in the living room.  I make popcorn again for lunch and they don't seem to notice...or mind.  "I want the red bowl!" Joboy is quite certain this time and near buries his face in the warm puffed corn.  The baby finally happy, practicing patty cake in a sunspot on the floor and I quietly fold sheets.  The sun pours through the south facing windows and if I close my eyes, I can feel it - the warmth of the sun on my face and the warmth of the Son in my heart.

I hand Ben his blue bowl piled high and he takes it, nods.  "Thank you."

Thankful, then, today for:

A girl set right down in the midst of all those unmatched socks, hunting for treasure: 5 cents a pair.


Running water in kitchen sink, baby splashing me soaking wet.

Popcorn saving me from lunchtime blues once again

The ability to stay close to my babe when he is not well.

Colors and counting while washing fiesta with Jonah

Warm, clean sheets.

His finger, marking the place for me to read History while I sway baby back and forth.

A cross, white gold, reminding me to cling ever closer.