... But He is Strong
Jesus loves me, this I know -
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong -
they are weak, but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.
- - -
The birds and I have been awake since 4:45 a.m. It wasn't planned, but so it is. There's no counting how many mornings have started exactly like this, throughout the years - but I do know that no matter what circumstance leads me into it, there is something sacred about those first footsteps into the kitchen in the morning, those first smells of coffee. There is something special about those quiet moments of touching the countertop, noticing the hidden toys scattered under the dining room table, and talking with the Lord about all of it.
Joy. No other word for it, I've found.
Even when my body craves sleep, even if the early hours weren't something I planned to see - there is still always a peace that comes with these dawning hours, unlike any other.
And the reality that follows these quiet hours is also joy - the rest of the house will be waking soon. My family. My husband of almost seven years, and my two daughters. My second cup of coffee has been poured, my Bible is open, and these words are what my eyes get stranded on:
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.'"
(2 Corinthians 12:9)
Yes, that is something I know much about.
- - -
A few weeks ago, our daughter #2 arrived into this world, and our family of four began a brand new season of life. I can already say emphatically that I adore being a mommy to these two little girls. They are a dream... they are certainly mine, coming true.
I can also say emphatically that no season of my life thus far has made me so frequently aware of my insufficiency like this one has. The insecurities sneak up with their assault when I'm least prepared, and they cut deep. How am I really doing? Everything in me longs to know, and yet part of my heart is simultaneously defensive, preparing itself for any less than flattering answers - because the truth is, at any given moment I seem to have little trouble immediately remembering all the instances that day when I was less than perfect. Weak. Insufficient.
Such as a few nights ago...
Every night when I'm putting daughter #1 to sleep, we read a couple books and then sing a few songs together. Sometimes they're soft and sweet, sometimes they're goofy - but no matter what other songs are included in the night's medley, we always sing 'Jesus Loves Me'. She likes the melody, and I like that it's sound doctrine. Cool. Done.
But a few nights ago when we began the nighttime routine, I wasn't at my best. I was tired, frustrated, short-tempered - and she had also been that way all afternoon. Seemingly not the ideal moment for singing 'Jesus Loves Me' and bonding with my sweet firstborn - but routines hold fast even when a person is merely doing them by rote, so needless to say that night I found myself once again singing those words to her.
And when I got to these words, my heart and my voice fissured:
Little ones to Him belong - they are weak, but He is strong.
Oh, how convicting, those words... sitting there holding my little one, feeling like such a little one myself. Needing a Savior, needing forgiveness for my sins as I try to teach her how to deal with her own. Fumbling, grappling for grace, all while trying to hold her hand and lead her to a person named Jesus, who loves her. Who loves her mother. Who knows her weaknesses, and offers strength instead - who redeems her failures, her sins, her doubts and insecurities, by the power of His blood.
And then this morning, here it is again... "But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.'" (2 Cor. 12:9)
- - -
Motherhood has increased the amount I laugh. It's forced me to grow up, in some really good ways. Motherhood also daily breaks me. I don't go a single day without second-guessing something (some days a lot more than others), and I don't know if I'll ever get used to the amount of crumbs everywhere... but I also don't go a single day without talking to the Lord, asking for His help, and seeking His face. He has given me much. This is exactly where I want to be.
The 4:45 a.m. wake-up calls from the infant in the bassinet. Goldfish crumbs all over the minivan. The sweet sloppy bedtime kisses, toddler temper tantrums, glorious awakenings, sidewalk chalk stains on the patio, brushing teeth and making faces in the mirror, tea-set and puzzle pieces all over the floor, diapers by the thousands, and bedtime songs anchoring it all in doctrine...
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.
for the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong -
they are weak, but He is strong.
Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me. The Bible tells me so.
- - -
The birds and I have been awake since 4:45 a.m. It wasn't planned, but so it is. There's no counting how many mornings have started exactly like this, throughout the years - but I do know that no matter what circumstance leads me into it, there is something sacred about those first footsteps into the kitchen in the morning, those first smells of coffee. There is something special about those quiet moments of touching the countertop, noticing the hidden toys scattered under the dining room table, and talking with the Lord about all of it.
Joy. No other word for it, I've found.
Even when my body craves sleep, even if the early hours weren't something I planned to see - there is still always a peace that comes with these dawning hours, unlike any other.
And the reality that follows these quiet hours is also joy - the rest of the house will be waking soon. My family. My husband of almost seven years, and my two daughters. My second cup of coffee has been poured, my Bible is open, and these words are what my eyes get stranded on:
"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.'"
(2 Corinthians 12:9)
Yes, that is something I know much about.
- - -
A few weeks ago, our daughter #2 arrived into this world, and our family of four began a brand new season of life. I can already say emphatically that I adore being a mommy to these two little girls. They are a dream... they are certainly mine, coming true.
I can also say emphatically that no season of my life thus far has made me so frequently aware of my insufficiency like this one has. The insecurities sneak up with their assault when I'm least prepared, and they cut deep. How am I really doing? Everything in me longs to know, and yet part of my heart is simultaneously defensive, preparing itself for any less than flattering answers - because the truth is, at any given moment I seem to have little trouble immediately remembering all the instances that day when I was less than perfect. Weak. Insufficient.
Such as a few nights ago...
Every night when I'm putting daughter #1 to sleep, we read a couple books and then sing a few songs together. Sometimes they're soft and sweet, sometimes they're goofy - but no matter what other songs are included in the night's medley, we always sing 'Jesus Loves Me'. She likes the melody, and I like that it's sound doctrine. Cool. Done.
But a few nights ago when we began the nighttime routine, I wasn't at my best. I was tired, frustrated, short-tempered - and she had also been that way all afternoon. Seemingly not the ideal moment for singing 'Jesus Loves Me' and bonding with my sweet firstborn - but routines hold fast even when a person is merely doing them by rote, so needless to say that night I found myself once again singing those words to her.
And when I got to these words, my heart and my voice fissured:
Little ones to Him belong - they are weak, but He is strong.
Oh, how convicting, those words... sitting there holding my little one, feeling like such a little one myself. Needing a Savior, needing forgiveness for my sins as I try to teach her how to deal with her own. Fumbling, grappling for grace, all while trying to hold her hand and lead her to a person named Jesus, who loves her. Who loves her mother. Who knows her weaknesses, and offers strength instead - who redeems her failures, her sins, her doubts and insecurities, by the power of His blood.
And then this morning, here it is again... "But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.'" (2 Cor. 12:9)
- - -
Motherhood has increased the amount I laugh. It's forced me to grow up, in some really good ways. Motherhood also daily breaks me. I don't go a single day without second-guessing something (some days a lot more than others), and I don't know if I'll ever get used to the amount of crumbs everywhere... but I also don't go a single day without talking to the Lord, asking for His help, and seeking His face. He has given me much. This is exactly where I want to be.
The 4:45 a.m. wake-up calls from the infant in the bassinet. Goldfish crumbs all over the minivan. The sweet sloppy bedtime kisses, toddler temper tantrums, glorious awakenings, sidewalk chalk stains on the patio, brushing teeth and making faces in the mirror, tea-set and puzzle pieces all over the floor, diapers by the thousands, and bedtime songs anchoring it all in doctrine...
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
Yes, Jesus loves me.
The Bible tells me so.
Hello! This is most likely a random way to send a message, but I couldn’t figure out how else to send a message to you. I found your blog through your FB page. I loved listening to your albums in my early teenage years (my sister introduced me to your music) and think about your music often. Your songs were so encouraging, and I still find myself singing them! Sadly, the iPod I had the music on no longer works. Is there any way to purchase your albums online? My email address is emmagmang@gmail.com. I would be so appreciative if you got back to me!
ReplyDeleteThank you,
Emma