Today, as I was putting Eden down for her nap, we cuddled in what she has coined “the beautiful room” (our guest bedroom that holds her pack-n-play where she naps). Just before I put her down she whispered: “Mommy, is Jesus beautiful?”
How could she know? My child is surely not perceptive enough to know that the mommy she woke up to today, snippy-Mommy, mommy-on-the-verge-0f-her-own-tantrum and hiding behind directives spoken very slowly and with a locked jaw and plastic smile, needed to hear that question.
Today is my Dad’s birthday and, I anticipate that, even more than the day he died, this will be a day I’d like to erase from the calendar for at least the next few years when the pain feels so sharp. (Sounds selfish, I know, but it’s where I am today.)
On top of that, I wiped out on my run this morning. (A friend told me once that I had the body of a 13 year old boy …maybe I have his coordination, too.)
My mom said “was it dark outside?”
Did she even need to ask?
Sadly this is not the first time my running buddy has had to peel me out of fetal position after a fall. I wish I could say my lack of coordination is a result of sleep deprivation or flighty-motherhood, but it’s not a new thing. My head, shoulders, knees and toes have graced all four lanes of the Miami University indoor track. Multiple times. My knees still have a scar from when my depth perception failed me and I dove for a tennis ball headed right for my racket last summer. Nope, lighting isn’t my issue.
So, now…the first year without my dad on his birthday, a new shiner, and holes in my running gloves from bracing my fall = grumpy mommy. There is not enough Vitamin E in this hippie house to heal today’s scars.
But when Eden asked that question, this is what came out of my mouth.
“Oh, Eden. Yes. Jesus is so beautiful.
“Sometimes, when you look into His eyes, in your mind …you feel like you could for hours. He’s so safe and so full of life and so loving. God made Jesus’ beauty to be almost overwhelming.
“When you wake up from your nap today, before you read your books or play with baby, ask God to show you what Jesus looks like. I bet you’ll see His beauty.”
Thank you, Holy Spirit, for filling my mouth with words I didn’t feel. And for reminding my heart–through the unknowing little African vessel residing under my roof–that your beauty trumps all.
By Sara Hagerty, Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet