I feel as though, through my renewed quiet times and my constant intake and outpouring of words this week, I have once again found joy in who I am in Christ. As I was spending my much needed time with Jesus last night, He gave me this picture of a big chest. Each time one of the ladies in our family turned 16, my Papa built us each a hope chest. It was to be filled with housewares and trinkets for our future homes. Now, my beautiful mahogany, dark-stained chest, with the silver engraved plate that says my name on it, sits in our hall, full of old memories, movie tickets, my first journals, my Disneyland pin lanyard, and other treasures. God revealed to my heart the importance of continuing to store those things, even though those times are far gone. He gently nudged me to remember Psalms 119:11, “I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.” I have neglected to store His words up in my heart, in the very bottom of the chest, for far too long. Even though I may not need to constantly access the things I have previous soaked up from God’s word, they are there for me. Every time I need a reminder of who I am, I go dig through that old chest, to see where I came from, who I used to be, how God has changed me and molded me into something that old self couldn’t have imagined. And I remember: I am His. And He knew I needed to dig through the chest where my heart sits, to search for the words He gave me long ago.
To protect my heart, for from it my life springs.
To not be anxious, but to tell Him everything.
To know that God is with me, even in places I never dreamed I’d be.
To be still, because He IS God.
These words I stored away so very long ago, are gems to me today, pressed down through time and age, to reveal an unwavering and solid truth to me: that I am His.
Now, I am hiding new gems, looking forward to the day I look back, dig through those stored up words, and pull out new jewels.
This weekend was filled with a lot of things. I don’t think we ate one meal at our house. Fletcher is finally getting big enough to play with his big cousin and uncle. During a family dinner, my parent’s brought up my little brother’s old train table set and the boys all built it together. After Fletcher’s first black eye and a bruised cheek and a missed nap, he happily sunk into a full night’s sleep after his weekend well-played.
In other news, our church held a fundraiser for women in Mozambique to provide for those who aren’t able to keep their babies well nourished. Dozens of women put together baskets and repurposed trinkets and kitchen items to sell and exchange and the last total I heard was $2200 raised! It reminded me that we, in America, have SO much. We are excessive, which isn’t an occasion for guilt, but rather an opportunity to give. Our whole goal of being financially stable is hinged on the fact that we want to give. Live like no one else, so later you can give like no one else. But I forget that we can give right now, too. I have trinkets and blankets and kitchen utensils. I have clothes and shoes and boxes of craft supplies. I can give now, even of the little I have. It was such a blessing to see a church of 300 hundred people or so, in a town of 6,000, give so greatly to one tiny village in Africa, millions of miles away. All because we hold loosely to the things of this world and hold tightly to the provision of our Lord.
To end a perfectly perfect weekend, Fletcher got his first winter hat, that I am totally in love with (from Target, for ten bucks).
I am learning as a wife and a mom, much more than I ever thought I would.