Sometimes during the midnight hours his scream echoes through my mind and freezes my heart.
I was inside, but not very far, from where he fell. He didn’t fall from very far. It was the way he fell. It was all wrong.
It was New Year’s Day.
He screamed as he fell. Then followed up with three bone chilling screams. Judah came running to fetch me as I went running out with heart pounding.
He was clutching his arm protectively.
“It’s broken mama. It’s broken.” He sobbed.
I am not good at these things. Most mothers seem to instinctively know what to do. Me? I held him gently to me and called Paul.
Paul was over at our house, the one we are working on updating the outdated to sell (there are now eight on our street for sale, please pray.) He had just finished mixing up a big bucket of cement so he could lay some new flooring in the bathroom. He abandoned all and rushed home to us.
Between sobs Wesley told me what had happened. His shoe had been loose and he had tripped out of the tree. His hand had shot out to save his fall, but it was too much and his humerus had cracked.
An overnight hospital stay and some pins (two or three… we don’t remember) and his highlight was being wheelchair-ed by a nurse to the waiting car to drive him home.
Home to nights of sleeplessness and endless pain. Tossing and turning and moaning and groaning. And tears. Lots of tears.
And I look back in wonder at the bold proclamation I made for 2015 – that I wanted to sit back and ponder the works of the Lord.
I wanted to consider His wonderful works.
There was this from that post;
In reading through Psalms I came across this verse. It is talking about the righteous man (or woman);
“He is not afraid of bad news, his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.” (112:7)
What peace there would be if we could live with an eternal perspective in the midst of our chaotic, mundane lives.
To be pondering what God is doing. God. Not us. To accept the bad news with a heart that is firmly anchored in the knowledge that God is working in our lives for our good and for His glory.
To spend time being still before Him.
To accept the bad news. To be vessels of grace.
There is nothing – nothing – that enters our lives that hasn’t been filtered through His loving hands. Nothing takes Him by surprise. Nothing overwhelms Him.
Recently I was reading in John chapter 9, the story of the man born blind. Jesus’ disciples, the ones most intimate with the ways of the Lord, wanted to know “who sinned that this man was born this way?” and Jesus answered them that it wasn’t sin in the man or the parents but “that the works of God might be displayed in him.”
The works of God displayed in us. In our suffering. Because of our suffering.
Vessels of grace.
And those who know Your name will put their trust in You;
For You, Lord, have not forsaken those who seek You.
You may have heard it said;
Sometimes He calms the storm & sometimes He calms His child.
I heard it stated slightly differently yesterday;
Sometimes He changes the circumstances & sometimes He works a greater miracle and changes me.
We are vessels of grace; grace bestowed upon us by a generous Father that is ever loving and caring.
Charles Spurgeon has said;
“Our Lord Jesus is ever giving, and does not for a solitary instant withdraw his hand. As long as there is a vessel of grace not yet full to the brim, the oil shall not be stayed. He is a sun ever-shining; he is manna always falling round the camp; he is a rock in the desert, ever sending out streams of life from his smitten side; the rain of his grace is always dropping; the river of his bounty is ever-flowing, and the well-spring of his love is constantly overflowing.” – from Morning and Evening
We are vessels of grace not yet full to the brim and grace keeps on raining.