See You Soon

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Several years ago I could not even bear to think of facing this day. But as His good nature proves, He doesn’t ever give us more than we can handle. Over the past 6 or so years I have lost the close verbal relationship I had with my mother due to her dementia – it has been a slow “letting go” and adjusting. All the while I knew this day was coming soon and in the meantime had thoroughly enjoyed her presence and love.
Today I must let go completely.
Yesterday, at 2pm, I watched her go Home to be with her precious Lord. She is free. No shackles of the weight of this sinful world and all the pain she lived through at the hands of others. No more bearing the weight of her lost loved ones – especially her daddy and her boy. No more fighting against a body and mind that tethered her and grounded her later life.
Mostly, she is free to behold, face to face, the Savior she clung SO heavily to throughout her life. She is dancing and bowing….and doing so with the people she loves. I cherish the thought. And I tell her, I will see her very soon.
I can only imagine.
I wish I could tell you all and help the world understand how good she was. How she saved our family in more ways than one. How she saved me and taught me, with her *soul* (not just words or even with actions) what love really is. That was, is and forever will be her gift to me.
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Being Vulnerable

This is a hard one. When it comes to vulnerability, I believe I can only see a small light in the darkness of faith. Why? Because I have built up walls inside my mind. Walls that were created when I was small and learned to protect my emotions. Walls that I learned when I was older to not trust people whom I thought loved me.

But walls also do what I had not intended. Walls do not let in love.

I am reminded of the story of the “Man of  La Mancha”.  Aldonza was a barmaid and hooker, yet, Don Quixote called her by the name of a lady and a prize to be treasured. “Dulcinea,” he said. And it melted her walls.

For me I hear His voice through His blood stained, glorious face. Though it is faint, He is saying my name. His voice is authentic and quiet, yet loud and fierce. It breaks through the darkness and tells me that because of His protective view, I do not have to worry how others may treat me or what others will do with what I say or who I am. He shields me and whispers in my ear a name so beautiful I can hardly take it in. A love so wide, so deep that it makes me collapse in freedom. It is my name on the white stone (Revelation 2:17). It is my “Dulcinea”.

What is your name? Can you hear Him calling through your dark places?

“To know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge that you might be filled with all the fullness if God.”