I was washing dishes when she delivered her message.  Her little feet pattered down the hardwood steps and over the cold, slate kitchen floor.  Her damp hair curled around that freckled face I love so much.  Her soft eyes danced with joy and excitement and pride “I wrote you, Mommy!”  Her little, round hands clasped the blue and white journal we had purchased at TJ Maxx that morning.

I smiled and kissed her, then sent her off to bed and finished my task.  When I was done, I dried my hands and picked the small book up and opened to the first page.

C-A-T.

Most people would think it spells cat.  And you would be right, of course, it does spell cat. But this “Cat”, was the first entry in a mother-daughter journal.  I started a journal like this one with my eldest daughter a couple years back.  My middle daughter, had watched us and in the last few months asked if we could do one together as well.  I agreed, but in an effort to sneak in some learning I told her that she had to try to write her own words. She agreed, and I found myself looking at first of what I hope is the first of millions of entries in our journal.  And I don’t quite know how to put in words the grin that stretched across my face and reached deep into my soul.

You see, while she correctly spelled – and illustrated – “Cat,” she communicated so much more.

 She communicated that she loves me.  She communicated a desire to communicate with me.  She communicated that she wants a relationship with me.

So I responded to her, and placed it back on her bed and kissed her sleeping head. And as I did, I was struck that this exchange in many ways illustrated truths about my prayer life, and brought out some lessons I need to take to heart:

1.  She didn’t wait until she had all the right words to communicate with me. She is just learning to read, just learning the basics of spelling, but that didn’t stop her from communicating. She wasn’t ashamed of this, she embraced it.  She was proud of being able to communicate with me even at a rudimentary level.
Do I let my lack of eloquence stop me from communing with my Father?  I will be honest in saying there are times that I compare my prayers, my words to those of others, and I find myself lacking.  My prayers feel so elementary next to others’ articulate, theologically rich words.  At times, I have let this shame me into silence.  Haven’t we all been there? Afraid to pray in Sunday School for fear of what people might think.  Haven’t we all someone that we have compared ourselves to – not for the sake of finding inspiration, but to make us feel in adequate?

2. She found joy in communicating with me.  It wasn’t the word “cat” that brought her joy – she didn’t get a pet cat because she wrote it, and she didn’t get anything of substance in return.   But the simple act of communicating with her mother brought her deep joy that sparkled in her eyes.
Does the simple act of coming before my heavenly Father’s throne in prayer bring me joy? Or do I see it as a task to be done? A means to an end?  I have the privilege of communing daily with the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords; I am allowed to call him Abba, Daddy!! Do I revel in that?  Am I awed by it? Do I take advantage of that blessed opportunity?

3. This journal doesn’t make me love her more. I couldn’t possibly love her more than I always have.  This journal doesn’t change how I provide for her. It doesn’t change how I care for her, it doesn’t change how I cherish and protect her.  God’s affections for me do not change based on whether I pray or don’t pray.  His faithfulness doesn’t change.  He is there.  I believe he rejoices, even smiles, when I speak to him, when I listen for him – but he remains the same either way.  I’m the one who is changed by communication with him, changed for the better. I see this in her as well.  After several weeks of this writing, the words are still simple, but she is learning and growing.  I see it in her reading and her writing during the day.  I see it in the pages of that journal. Does my communication with God show in the pages of my life?

I hope this journal, this communication, will continue on for years to come. I pray even more that her (and my) communication with our heavenly Father will be filled with an even deeper confidence, joy, and growth.

I could blame my inconsistent blogging on the fact that I have three children with so much energy and so many words that sometimes I find they have drained me of my energy at the end of the day. I wonder if they siphon it out of me to get theirs! Though, I’m sure my husband would surely say I still have plenty of words – ha!
I could blame the fact that I homeschool. Yeah… I’m that mom though no matter what my sister-in-law likes to say I don’t wear long jean jumpers or make my own granola. Ok so SOMETIMES I make my own granola, but I at least prefer my denim to be a nice pair of skinny jeans.
I could also blame the fact that I don’t have a nice laptop so I can curl up by a nice crackling fire with a cup of coffee and write while music softly plays in the background, or on the deck of a beach cottage listening to the waves crash on the sand while I type. I mean isn’t that how all writers write?? Even if not, I’d sure like to try…..
There are many reasons I could conjure up to blame my lack of writing and posting recently. But the bottom line is, the problem is me.
I struggle with my priorities.
I fight fear. Fear of failure, fear of embarrassment, fear of rejection.
I am undisciplined and inconsistent.
I guess the thing about blogging is I can’t do it honestly and hide my flaws. The very nature of a blog invites someone into your thoughts, reflections, and in some ways, life. It can be easier for me to just hide in the background.

So why do I do it?

The truth is that whether I blog or not isn’t going to affect much. The world will still turn. Thousands of other bloggers will blog. This blog is the tiniest of drops in an ocean of reflections, writings, and musings and various other publications from people braver, wiser, smarter etc. In fact, there are many days I question what I was even thinking when I started this. I try to ignore it, and some days I’m good at pushing it away, but I can’t deny the tugging on my heart to sit and reflect and write about these adventures of grace in mommyhood and ministry. As I reflect on this, I guess blogging is kind of metaphor for life. Ultimately, it’s not about whether or not I blog, it’s about me being disciplined enough to steward my time well (thanks, Mrs. Mount) and, honestly, to be obedient, to be bold. And that applies to many areas of life.

So here I am, returning to the scene of the crime. Knowing this is probably not the last time I will have a lapse in this public realm of blogging, just as I will continue to have lapses in my life… I pray that God will continue to speak to my heart, to pull me out of my hiding places, to show me His amazing Grace. I pray that He will continue to teach me. I pray he will equip me with wisdom to understand and courage to share as He would have me. And if you are ‘regular’ reader, I ask you to pray the same.