Bend Low

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I may have noticed it most when my back kept me from stooping that Monday.  And Tuesday and Wednesday. Some months back.

That I spend a lot of time less than 180°.  Bent low.

To pick up the raisins that made it into the laundry room? To clean a croc that just danced over dog business.  To look under couch cushions for the lost bottle top found on our walk.  And to find that copywork page.  Or listen to little whispers.  And button pants and pull off ticks or nurse cuts in big toes. To change sheets at 1 am after someone snuck a cup to bed.  And pick up the ninja lego that has entrenched itself into the crevices of my sore feet.  To receive kisses on the head and  tattles in the ear.  And press a towel into carpet for the 3rd spilled cup this week.

It can be dirty down there.

Bent low.  

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I slid 2 red chairs together last week in the school room where the windows were up, books and craft supplies for archaeology kits were scattered, and hollering echoed through the screens.  I called him in and we sat in little seats for a heart to heart.  There was good reason to hit with that stick!  And yell!  I’m sure of it.  I listened.  I heard the heart of the frustration.  Because if he hasn’t been heard, he can’t hear me.  And I told him I wanted to help.  That I’d be there to help him stay calm.  And say what he needs to say.   Just call me.  Call on me, baby.

And he said shaking that little head, “Mama, I’m not gonna forget this talk.”  Like he had a new weapon and he was ready for battle!  Lord help.

Yesterday, we talked again.  They will forget. Like we do.

They will mess up.  Like I do.

He will do it wrong.  Like me.

I”ll never achieve perfection.  Neither will she.

We’re always bending low.

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And I think the One who bent the lowest when he drew in dirt and offered that crazy favor for the home wrecker undeserving, He knows the beauty found in the hard ugly places. The humility and servanthood modeled in the presence of hard hearts when He bent and washed loathsome feet, a job for the lowliest.  The beauty that has unfolded a million times over from this picture.  Straight from the grime.

And what does THAT have to do with mothers?

It’s not the adulteress that stands in the centers of our homes, but children. Short people who need grace, every day.  Favor.  When we bend to serve them, we serve Him.  Because His heart is for them.  Those we deem dirty.  And in the grocery aisle when they are out of control, and ugliness permeates, and it seeps into our hearts so fast and we utter tones out of sheer embarrassment, out of our own pride. He bent low for them.  He instructed the ugly and earned the right to be heard. And followed.  

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Instead of yelling at childish ways and little inconveniences, may I offer grace.

Instead of hurrying my young here and there, may I slow and breathe grace.

Instead of mirroring tempers and selfishness, may I model the grace of a Savior who pardoned the hopeless.

Grace alone changes us from the inside out.  To help us become more like the Savior.  Love covers a multitude of sins!  (1 Peter 4:8) And so, we love them.  Above all else. 

And we bend low.  To offer grace.

Praying that I can only imagine such the humble act, and remember my harvest.  May I see that slow finger in the sand when the ugly is swift to take over my heart and words spill out fast like a science experiment gone wrong.

We’ll bend low every day.  Yes, many times.  But, it’s telling the heart to come along when we bend that just might make a difference in our harvest.

Praying for low-bending mamas everywhere this morning.

~k.

updated from Day 2 of The Sweetest Harvest because this mama needed to breathe Grace today~

Comments

  1. This made me cry. Beautiful!

  2. Thank you. My little ones need lots of help with tasks and lots of repeated correcting right now I once prided myself in having a patient and serving heart with them, but exhaustion has set in and I’m finding it more difficult to maintain. I long to serve with a happy heart with no regrets and need to ask God for strength and renewal. Thank you. Your words are inspiring.

    • Exhaustion, yes. Difficult to maintain, yes. You are not alone, Debbie. 90% of the battle is recognizing we can’t do it on our own strength. I’m praying for you tonight. Lord, help her to not grow weary…for in due season she will reap! **Hugs**

  3. Oh Kristen…your words bring such sweet peace. Even to this Mama. :) Love you baby girl.

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