Giving thanks for rain (and my mama)

I drink in the sound of them singing from the other room, a symphony of little voices. One little girl who knows every word to every song, another that can nail every note of every melody and a third who though she hasn't grown into words, her little grunts and squeaks chiming in give evidence to the song God has put in her heart.  Between episodes of nose blowing and incessant coughing, they make music for these mama's ears.

It has been a season of Sunday mornings at home, as the cold and flu season claims one after another Sabbath away from our church family.  To be honest, I can't remember how many days now turned weeks it has been since I slept more than two consecutive nights without multiple interruptions. The glimpse of sunshine we had yesterday is now once again covered by the grey of another eminent rain storm.  There is part of me that is weary of this season, the continuous drizzle from clouds and noses.

And it's Mother's Day.

But in the midst of this drizzle,God has so graciously rained down truth and each day there has been a reminder, or two, of His grace, His compassion, His mercy.  I read His words:

So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Return, O Lord! How long?
Have pity on your servants!
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
and for as many years as we have seen evil.
Let your work be shown to your servants,
and your glorious power to their children.

Psalm 90:12-16

In those Words I find my charge as a mother to my girls but also my charge as daughter of the King.

Number my days that I might have a heart of wisdom. In all things giving thanks. Cherishing the rain and the runny noses and the sickness and the pain and the loneliness knowing that our Sovereign God is compassionate, wise, just and is love. And that these days that I'm called to number are all ordained. Each. And. Every. One. Ordained. It isn't just for the beauty of the flowers to come that I give thanks for the rain but I give thanks for the rain itself for it was sent by a loving Father who knows what His children need.

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. To begin each day in His presence, knowing that my anxious heart can not be calmed with the completion of all the laundry in the world, by spotless floors or the perfect behavior of little children.  My longing for more will never be satisfied by a husband (however wonderful he may be) or by another human being. It can not be satisfied by a successful career or by a perfectly ordered home.  Only He can satisfy and by starting each day with Him in mind, I can truly rejoice and be glad all my days.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, and for as many years as we have seen evil. Knowing that the end goal my life is the glory of God in my conformity to Christ,  that in the process of being made like Christ, being made holy, I must be refined and pressed and molded and it will not be easy. Knowing that His power is made perfect in my weakness, that His grace is sufficient in all things, that in the end of this life I will only be able to stand before God, with Christ interceding, my penalty paid in full on the cross.

Let your work be shown to your servants, and your glorious power to their children. As a mother and as His daughter my eyes cannot be focused downward and get distracted by the mundane but rather my eyes must be focused heavenward, with my view on only those things that will last: God, His Word and people. He is always at work, always drawing. always wooing, always disciplining by grace and always showing Himself to His people. And I fall short if I fail to help my children see His glory in the rain and in the runny noses.  The gifts I have been given are not for me to hoard but to pass on through each nose I wipe and dish I wash.

Almost a decade and a half ago my family went through a period of deep pain. And in that time I have such vivid, vivid memories of my mother at church, hands raised, tears streaming down her face singing a song from Psalm 13

You are my hope,
Your promise never fails me.
And my desire is to follow You forever.

For You are good,
For You are good,
For You are good to me

I learned from her to trust in the goodness of God, to number my days and give thanks.

I'm thanking God for the rain today, for the drizzle from tiny noses, for being confined inside the walls of this messy, noisy home.  And I'm thanking Him for my mother who let Him satisfy her in the morning, who numbers her days and lets her children see her give thanks even for the rain.

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me . Psalm 13:5-6
 

Happy Mother's Day, mama. I love you!

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