"Momma! Stop the car!" The shrill rang out from the back seat. 
We were late for an appointment that would turn the tide of our lives if we did not make it in time. We had not even a moment to spare. Anxiety pulsed through my veins as the weight of the world bore down on my heart. We had to make it to this appointment.
"Momma please?!" The little voice pleaded. "Stop the car and turn around." Not having a clue about this sudden cry, I slammed on the brakes, and spun the car around anticipating some emergency that I somehow missed.
"What is it son? What is so important that you screamed like that?" I positioned the rear view mirror to look at my seven-year son. Irritation at this sudden inconvenience bubbled inside of me. There he was stretching his little neck to see over the front seat...oblivious...helpless.
"Here, stop here," his young voice instructed me with confidence in my love for him. He had no comprehension of the serious concern I bore on my shoulders as a single-mother with four little mouths to feed still at home.
"Look momma."
I looked around trying to see what he was seeing. Nothing came into my view out of the ordinary, certainly nothing to warrant a shrill like that. All I could see was the clock flashing the bright neon numbers SCREAMING we were LATE!
"What am I looking for son?" I asked. I looked in the mirror to see where his eyes might be looking as he said, "Right there Momma. See it? Will you sit with me and hold me Mommy?" Oh my gosh! With those words, he struck my heart with silence.
Off to the left there was a path. Over the past 25 years I had driven to and fro and never once noticed it before. How did my young son, barely able to see over the seats, see that path? "Mommy, please sit with me? Please?"
Realizing that no matter how fast I might drive now, we could not make it on time anyway, I shut off the car. I had gotten off work just to make this very important appointment, but how could I deny my son? As I slid the gear into park my son hopped out of the car, scrambled around to my side, opened that big heavy door, and took me by the hand and led me down his path. He led me to a spot beneath a large old birch, and said, "Here, sit with me momma," as he gently tugged down on my arm directing me to the ground. As I sat down in the grass, he dropped into my lap and settled in leaning back against me. No way could I resist.
The dam burst and tears flowed. I could not hold them back. For months, I could not cry; now, I could not stop.
"What's wrong momma? Why are you crying? Isn't it pretty?" My dear son asked me. He reached up with his tiny hand and wiped my tears. The weight of his future had been weighing my soul like an anchor, and in his innocence, he had no idea just how much pain I had been carrying, nor should he have known. That was not his to bear. Yet somehow, this lil' fella lifted that burden completely from me by leading me to that very spot and forcing me to be still.
"I am just crying happy tears my love," I answered him. Life was so very hard from day to day. Just keeping food on the table for my lil' ones and clothes on their backs, shoes on their wee lil' feet, coats on their backs and a solid roof over our heads, was a very tough job. I had worked so very hard to make life happy and fun for my babies regardless of our circumstance, feed them nourishing meals on time each day, and keep them from the harsh reality that engulfed us all. I worried each day that I was not giving them enough. We could barely afford the basics in life.
How could I afford this moment with my son? The gentle, still, small voice of my Savior reminded me, that I could not afford to avoid this moment. This was the will of the Lord for me and my dear son to be at the base of that very tree, placed there in time for that exact moment and many more to come.
"Why are you happy momma?" he asked.
"Well, momma is happy that you saw this place and that you would share it with me," I kissed the top of his curly little head and settled into the moment which God determined for us when He laid the foundations of this world in place.
As it turned out, God made it all go well. The person with whom I was scheduled to meet, had called in sick and forgot to notify me to reschedule. Had we gotten there on time or even early, it would not have mattered. The meeting would not have taken place.
Though I did not know that at the time, as my son's little voice cried out from the back seat, God's word rang out in my soul to "answer the cries of the poor." My little bankrupt sinner in the back seat, who could do nothing to force me to stop had I ignored him, was dependent upon my mercy as he pleaded with me for that moment. That simple moment, not a toy, or a bike or some material thing, but he pleaded for a moment with me in that beautiful, simple little place. He saw it for a brief second and immediately desired to be there with me, still and close. My baby just wanted me to hold him and look at that simple space and spend that moment together.
That little path has become our special go to place when we need to stop and take a breath. It has been almost 8 years now and we are doing quite well and are very happy. I have since become an advocate for other women and children who are suffering as we once did. Life dishes out some very tough blows. Our circumstances can change in the blink of an eye. As tough as things may get for us, these children NEED us to focus on them and their future, not on OUR past. And please do not let the pressure of the necessities crush the moments to connect. Remember, we only get moments, and they are fleeting.
Please ladies, hear the cries of the poor dear wee ones in your charge? We are stewards over these very precious lives, we do not own them. We are called to serve them. Please ask God for the grace to tune your soul to hear them when they cry out to us? To this day, I am deeply comforted when I revisit that moment when my tiny son cried out from the back seat for my love.
Thank you Lord for tuning my heart to my children by YOUR grace within me. I pray for the next generation and beg God to turn our hearts toward our children and that He might heal our broken generation, one heart at a time.
CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE AVAILABLE WORKS
"Momma please?!" The little voice pleaded. "Stop the car and turn around." Not having a clue about this sudden cry, I slammed on the brakes, and spun the car around anticipating some emergency that I somehow missed.
"What is it son? What is so important that you screamed like that?" I positioned the rear view mirror to look at my seven-year son. Irritation at this sudden inconvenience bubbled inside of me. There he was stretching his little neck to see over the front seat...oblivious...helpless.
"Here, stop here," his young voice instructed me with confidence in my love for him. He had no comprehension of the serious concern I bore on my shoulders as a single-mother with four little mouths to feed still at home.
"Look momma."
I looked around trying to see what he was seeing. Nothing came into my view out of the ordinary, certainly nothing to warrant a shrill like that. All I could see was the clock flashing the bright neon numbers SCREAMING we were LATE!
"What am I looking for son?" I asked. I looked in the mirror to see where his eyes might be looking as he said, "Right there Momma. See it? Will you sit with me and hold me Mommy?" Oh my gosh! With those words, he struck my heart with silence.
Off to the left there was a path. Over the past 25 years I had driven to and fro and never once noticed it before. How did my young son, barely able to see over the seats, see that path? "Mommy, please sit with me? Please?"
Realizing that no matter how fast I might drive now, we could not make it on time anyway, I shut off the car. I had gotten off work just to make this very important appointment, but how could I deny my son? As I slid the gear into park my son hopped out of the car, scrambled around to my side, opened that big heavy door, and took me by the hand and led me down his path. He led me to a spot beneath a large old birch, and said, "Here, sit with me momma," as he gently tugged down on my arm directing me to the ground. As I sat down in the grass, he dropped into my lap and settled in leaning back against me. No way could I resist.
The dam burst and tears flowed. I could not hold them back. For months, I could not cry; now, I could not stop.
"What's wrong momma? Why are you crying? Isn't it pretty?" My dear son asked me. He reached up with his tiny hand and wiped my tears. The weight of his future had been weighing my soul like an anchor, and in his innocence, he had no idea just how much pain I had been carrying, nor should he have known. That was not his to bear. Yet somehow, this lil' fella lifted that burden completely from me by leading me to that very spot and forcing me to be still.
"I am just crying happy tears my love," I answered him. Life was so very hard from day to day. Just keeping food on the table for my lil' ones and clothes on their backs, shoes on their wee lil' feet, coats on their backs and a solid roof over our heads, was a very tough job. I had worked so very hard to make life happy and fun for my babies regardless of our circumstance, feed them nourishing meals on time each day, and keep them from the harsh reality that engulfed us all. I worried each day that I was not giving them enough. We could barely afford the basics in life.
How could I afford this moment with my son? The gentle, still, small voice of my Savior reminded me, that I could not afford to avoid this moment. This was the will of the Lord for me and my dear son to be at the base of that very tree, placed there in time for that exact moment and many more to come.
"Why are you happy momma?" he asked.
"Well, momma is happy that you saw this place and that you would share it with me," I kissed the top of his curly little head and settled into the moment which God determined for us when He laid the foundations of this world in place.
As it turned out, God made it all go well. The person with whom I was scheduled to meet, had called in sick and forgot to notify me to reschedule. Had we gotten there on time or even early, it would not have mattered. The meeting would not have taken place.
Though I did not know that at the time, as my son's little voice cried out from the back seat, God's word rang out in my soul to "answer the cries of the poor." My little bankrupt sinner in the back seat, who could do nothing to force me to stop had I ignored him, was dependent upon my mercy as he pleaded with me for that moment. That simple moment, not a toy, or a bike or some material thing, but he pleaded for a moment with me in that beautiful, simple little place. He saw it for a brief second and immediately desired to be there with me, still and close. My baby just wanted me to hold him and look at that simple space and spend that moment together.
That little path has become our special go to place when we need to stop and take a breath. It has been almost 8 years now and we are doing quite well and are very happy. I have since become an advocate for other women and children who are suffering as we once did. Life dishes out some very tough blows. Our circumstances can change in the blink of an eye. As tough as things may get for us, these children NEED us to focus on them and their future, not on OUR past. And please do not let the pressure of the necessities crush the moments to connect. Remember, we only get moments, and they are fleeting.
Please ladies, hear the cries of the poor dear wee ones in your charge? We are stewards over these very precious lives, we do not own them. We are called to serve them. Please ask God for the grace to tune your soul to hear them when they cry out to us? To this day, I am deeply comforted when I revisit that moment when my tiny son cried out from the back seat for my love.
Thank you Lord for tuning my heart to my children by YOUR grace within me. I pray for the next generation and beg God to turn our hearts toward our children and that He might heal our broken generation, one heart at a time.
CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE AVAILABLE WORKS
Thank you so much for sharing this story, Cyndy! It is so very demonstrative of the sensitivity a mother’s heart must have to the gentle leading of God as “He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom; And gently lead those who are with young.” Isaiah 40:11
ReplyDeleteThank you Bethel for your words of encouragement. I haven't signed into this blog for some time now. I thought I lost the links. It saddened my heart to think I had lost it. Very encouraged to see that I have my blog access back. That happens to be one of my favorite verses of scripture.
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