Sunday, November 6, 2011


There are some lessons we need to learn.
And again.
And again.

Some are the little lessons -- small habits that maybe only affect our day-to-day routines.
Small things.

Some are the bigger lessons -- big habits that you try to break or they break you.
Big things.

Writing helps remind me of the bigger lessons I am learning
over and
over and
over again.

Lessons about anxiety,
about trust,
about imago dei,
about introversion,
about what it is I think I am doing.

It's hard.
Because every time I think I've gained traction, suddenly I feel as though I'm back at square one.
Something pops up to remind me that it's still a struggle.

And it's in these moments -- the moments of falling -- of feeling like maybe I've haven't really gotten anywhere -- that I feel like a child again.  Or like my baby -- who rolls over only to discover she can't yet roll back -- or who tries to wiggle her way across the room but can barely move three inches.

I am that child to my Father.

"People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them.  When Jesus saw this, he was indignant.  He said to them, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.  I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.'  And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them."

Mark 10:13-16

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