(For fathers, children, and not just for Father’s Day)
The Perfect Father
Relentless and reckless in His love for us
He is an ever present help in all He calls us to
He is a father to the fatherless
He offers hope and healing to the hurting heart, strength to the weak
forgiveness from failure and a new beginning at the end of our road
“Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.” Psalms 103:13-14 NASB
Honored to have my article, In Step with My Father published on Southern Ohio Christian Voice. You may click here to read it and while you’re there please check out their other great offerings. 🙂
In Step With My Father
(For fathers, children, and not just for Father’s Day)
I remember Daddy holding my hand as we entered the gates to the botanical gardens, Wrigley’s gum, Elephant Ear pastries, Matchbox cars, him carrying me when I was hurt, and scraping every speck of black pepper off my food. And bumper cars. I hated them, but I never told him because I liked to hear him laugh—and we were together.
Daddy was pale and shaky after riding the corkscrew roller coaster. We made kites with bamboo and tissue paper. They always crashed, but that was okay. He drove way too fast on the windy island mountain roads in his little ultramarine Triumph Spitfire… Cont. Here: http://sohiochristianvoice.com/in-step-with-my-father
Please forgive me for my quietness here. I have much to share and am currently working on a few articles as well as a couple new exciting writing projects. I’m looking forward to catching up with you in a few days. Thank you for joining me on this writing journey. and for your prayers.
It’s easy to miss the journey en route to the destination—to overlook or brush aside the little things, the simple things.
Sometimes in the midst of all the crazy tug of war and the growing pains I wonder what my kids are thinking. What memories do they have of growing up? So, I was blessed to overhear a conversation between my daughters about a little boy they babysit sometimes. Here it is: “He’s got a great personality. But I just want to take him and mold him—give him my childhood. I want to take him to the library and make him sit there and read for hours!” I’m so glad we have those memories. We were the only ones with a book bag with wheels at the time and we always had library fines; still do. I often fell asleep reading my children bedtime stories.
Anna Lisa my little bow legged ballerina has turned into a beauty. Her name means bountiful and gracious or graceful—and she is. It doesn’t seem that long ago that she was popping the heads off her Barbie dolls, and then she graduated to lopping chicken heads off on a Kenyan mission trip.
“Mom,” she said. “ I’m late because on my way home there was a pick-up truck in front of me filled with dirt and it smelled like Africa—so I didn’t take my turn. I followed it for awhile just so I could smell it.”
One evening she stood sobbing in the living room after a really rough day as summer camp unit director. “Anna,” her father said, “You don’t have to work there. You could get a job at another camp where the kids are easier to deal with.”
“But I don’t want to quit. I love it there.” she said as tears streamed down her face.
Sometimes those little things aren’t so little—like taking your kids to the library. Like the smell of Kenyan dirt and how the simple smile of a little child can light the darkest place.
Update from Massachusetts Family Institute on Massachusetts Senate Bill 70 (The Counseling Ban)
Updated April 9th, 2019
MA Senate Bill 70 violates freedom of speech, parental rights and religious freedom
SEE YOU IN COURT! Massachusetts Governor Charlie Baker signed the Counseling Ban last night, April 9th, 2019.
Massachusetts Family Institute is already hearing from potential PLAINTIFFS and is prepared to help them protect their rights in court.
PLEASE CALL or TEXT my cell phone at (978) 204-9131 if you know a minor (age 17 or younger) and parents that want therapy to escape LGBTQ lifestyle OR a Licensed Therapist that desires to give such therapy.
The only way now to protect free speech and access to therapy is through the courts. We NEED your help!
Read more about current LGBTQ activist plan to continue to assault religion and family values here: https://tapit.us/lYiuO Please SHARE with EVERYONE YOU KNOW!Michael King www.mafamily.org
(978) 204-9131 (cell)
UPDATE Friday 3/29/19: Unfortunately, Senate Bill 70 passed on Thursday March 28th, 2019 with a vote of 34-0. But I urge you to read this post if you have not already so you can be informed and know what next steps to take to try to stop this threat to freedom of speech, parental rights, freedom of religion and the safety and well being of children. Massachusetts Family institute is urging residents to call Governor Charlie Baker at Phone: (617) 725-4005 NOW and ask him to veto the bill which is set for signing early next week.His office staff informed me today that you may leave a message voicing your concerns after hours and your request will be tallied. *I added more information on the results of the vote and some of my thoughts on them at the end of this article. (A strike-through indicates that information has been updated.)
The Massachusetts Senate will votevoted on Senate Bill, SB. 70, (the Counseling Ban), this Thursday, March 28th at the State House. If this bill goes into law it will violate freedom of speech, religious freedom, and the rights of parents to raise their children according to their moral and religious convictions. This bill would force counselors and parents to go against their beliefs about human sexuality and violates rights to privacy of patients and counselors.
Some think this bill will not affect them as they aren’t facing the situations it addresses. But regardless of where your convictions fall on gender identity and sexual orientation, and whatever your religious persuasion, bills like SB. 70 endanger the freedoms of all. Other states have also been pushing similar bills.
HB. 140/ SB. 70 would make it illegal for licensed health care professionals to offer counselling or talk therapy that encouraged a gender-confused minor to feel comfortable as the biological sex they were born, or to change, suppress, or stop any behavior or feelings in regards to their opposite-sex gender identity or sexual attraction toward others of the same sex. But they would be legally required to promote hormone therapy and sex-change surgery. This applies even if the minor is the one seeking help to change sexual attractions or behavior they don’t want to continue.
Parents who opt for counseling the state doesn’t sanction for their gender-confused child rather than cross-sex hormones or surgery, would be subject to DCF intervention which could result in the child being taken from their home and then receiving sex-change treatments without parental consent.
This bill mis-labels certain counsel as child abuse and dictates and limits healthcare workers in the diagnosis and treatment of their patients. Prohibiting licensed counselors from guiding those who seek help with their struggles by freely discussing and exploring a patient’s symptoms and feelings is negligent medical practice and abuse. If one doubts a healthcare worker’s advice they can choose to get a second opinion.
Many who identify as one sexual orientation shift to another, or between several categories over time. They change their minds. So why the push to alter one’s body with hormones or surgery? What’s the rush? This is especially true for children who do not yet have the capacity to fully comprehend the choices and their long term ramifications.
If a child identifies as a dog should the parent allow them to undergo treatment to become like a dog?
If a child thinks he is Superman, is it abuse if their parent doesn’t allow him or her to leap from buildings with a single bound?
If a white child declares they are a black child trapped in a white body, or a black child identifies as a white child, should their parents be forced to let them undergo treatment to permanently change their skin color?
It is my pleasure to share Pearl Allard’s guest post with you today.
I had just settled on the couch, grateful to have crossed the day’s finish line with two kids intact and in bed. I eagerly reached for a book I’d been longing to read, when my six-year-old padded out of her room—one bare foot and one slipper-socked foot. I bristled, wondering with the psalmist, how long, O Lord?
Dear daughter held up the partner slipper sock in one hand and a gray pom-pom in the other. The slipperhad (past tense) a pair of dangly gray pom-poms attached at the top which I was preparing to mentally curse. She wanted me to fix it.
Yeah sure, kid. No problem. I’m on it. And by the way, you’re supposed to be in bed!I choked back the destructive spew and accepted the extended slipper sock and offending gray pom-pom. I examined them (come on, you know that deserved a gold star right there), but I informed her it wasn’t getting fixed that night, if it was even fixable. She looked crestfallen.
I peered at the small mass of gray fibers coming loose in my hand. I’d wait until she was in bed and then throw away this whole fraying mess.
“Do you think you can fix it?” Her little voice held such angst.
It was a gray pom-pom for crying out loud, not a broken limb, or a break-up with a boyfriend, or a life-or-death matter, not even a blip on the radar of important…to me.
I looked up into her earnest expression watching me. Hoping. Trusting.
I sighed. When she’s grown, will she remember me shoving aside what she valued? Or will she remember me caring about even the outlandish details of her life? I sighed, again.
“Couldn’t you sew it back on?” I sensed her trying to lighten the workload, offering the most helpful suggestion she knew.
It was just a mess on my lap, and it was all kinds of unimportant and…it mattered. I sighed for the third time.
“Yes, I can probably sew it on,” I admitted. That seemed to satisfy her since she smiled and, with both feet now in one slipper sock, hopped her way back to bed. Crazy girl. This mothering thing…yeah.
I set the book aside, hauled my rear off the couch, and rummaged through craft supplies, shaking my head. Was I actually comparing shades of gray thread?
Back on the couch, I stitched the fraying mess – and realized I was actually stitching up something far more significant. Isthis what real love does?Stitches things, people, back together? Reconnects the disconnected? Takes the time to do crazy for the sake of demonstrating love? I marveled at the way the eye of a needle opened my eyes.
I paused and looked up. Hanging over our fireplace were three crosses – just small hot-glued branches – beneath small heart lights I’d strung around the mantel. The cross, a symbol of the most crazy love ever. And small hearts connected together because of it. Radiating light. In that moment I tasted a richer flavor of God’s love for me. Why does He love me? Me with a wandering heart and reluctance to share what’s been lavished on me. Crazy-amazing love.
How fitting so near Valentine’s Day.
I tied off the knot and surveyed the repair. It didn’t seem nearly so costly a sacrifice anymore. Those few interrupted minutes a disguised opportunity to participate in something much larger than irritating gray pom-poms. Any investment of love, no matter how small, is really part of something big; because God IS love. I’m slow to see, slow to look up. But thank God, I didn’t completely botch this. (Lord knows how many other times I have!)
May this Valentine’s Day bring a fresh awareness of how much God loves you with a crazy-amazing love. Romans 5 is an amazing chapter to reflect on, if you get the chance today. But the verse below from John is a good summary.
Yes, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him would not be lost but have eternal life. John 3:16 ERV
Pearl and I met two years ago as members of The Jerry JenkinsWriters Guild and joined the same writing group, currently comprised of nine women from around the world with a passion for Jesus and to honor Him with our writing. Pearl is a precious sister in the Lord, a down to earth, gifted and anointed writer and speaker, a prayer warrior with a heart to glorify God and encourage others. She has written for (in)courage, Keys for Kids, and Breathe Christian Writers Conference.
Pearl Allard
Pearl is an imperfect Son-follower learning to enjoy grace. Sunflowers are her spiritual metaphor, because they track the sun’s movement as Christians seek to follow God’s son, Jesus. She is happily-mostly-aftered, work-at-home mama to two, and lives in Michigan. She writes at LookUpSometimes.com.
Progress is slow as I recover from an inflamed nerve which makes it difficult to work on a computer. Eleven of twelve articles are posted for my current series of interviews with pastors and pastor’s wives. I will post the final article in the series, (which features missionaries), as soon as I am able. This link will also bring you to my interviews with pastors and pastor’s wives from prior years.
Here in the USA, February is Black History Month. If you haven’t already, I’d like to invite you toclick here and read my post, Why are We Shouting? (Remembering MLK’s Message). From there you can link to read One Blood, A Civil Rights Story, Jean Colby, my mother-in-law and Sara Clay, my sister-in-law recount their experiences as Civil Rights activists.
Our culture tends to demean men and undermine the important role of fathers, then wonders at the staggering numbers of fatherless and troubled children. Dads who stick it out and stand up for their families play a vital role in their family and their positive impact reverberates throughout society. Likewise, those men who step up to fill someone else’s shoes.
My heart aches for those whose father is not a part of their life and those who lack a healthy relationship with them. My parents separated when I was a baby, so my grandparents raised me until I was nine years old, then my dad. Longing and loneliness gripped me as I watched friends make cards for Mother’s Day while mine was overseas, and I had minimum contact with her. Some people experience an emptiness because their parent has died or is uninvolved in their life. Others suffer due to a parent who is physically present but emotionally absent. For those, life and Father’s Day can be difficult.
Sometimes as a parent your heart swells with joy, but at other times you labor in love with tears and a busted heart over your children. For those in a hard season, I thought I’d share some scriptures and re-post my poem, For the Prodigal’s Mom, in hopes of encouraging you. Whether your child is faring well, struggles or has strayed, whether you just have the occasional hard day or more tough days than not—your work does not go unnoticed. God sees you, He feels your heart. He wants to come alongside and help and strengthen us. Jesus weeps with us and we can take joy in the shelter of Him. He cares for our children. Remember, He sets out in search of the one lost lamb.
We don’t have to walk this road or wage this war in our own strength. Jesus is the difference maker in our lack as we strive to find your footing and guide your children on the right path. We can petition Heaven and storm Hell with our prayers and partner with our Maker, the Good Father, for the needs of our children. God provides and equips for every task He calls us to.
And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. Galatians 6:9 KJV
For the Prodigal’s Mom
Mama,
Don’t you know Jesus loves your children
Even more than you?
Pound the gates of Heaven, Mama
Pray without ceasing
Know the God of Heaven, inclines to your cry
He shares your passion for restoration of the prodigal child
So shall Myword be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall notreturn to Mevoid, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:11 (NKJV)
Daddy held my hand as we entered the arched iron gates to the botanical gardens. Memories of his buying me Wrigley’s gum, elephant ear pastries, and Matchbox cars still bring a smile. He carried me when I was injured and scraped every speck of black pepper off my food. And bumper cars. I hated them, but I never told him because I liked to hear him laugh—and we were together.
I lived with Grandma in the countryside on the north coat of Jamaica, and Daddy lived on the south coast in the city, so I treasured his visits. He gave me a toypiano, like Schroeder’s in the “Peanuts” comic strip. I played it as loudly as I could because I believed it would make him visit us sooner. I loved our adventures. Sometimes he brought gifts.
One morning, Daddy showed up for a visit and handed me a big box. Grandma gave him a warning look as he hadn’t sought her pre-approval on this one—a tie-dye set. Perhaps he thought his gift was just fine for a six-year-old and Grandma’s nice tile floors.
“You gave her the tie dye set. You get her cleaned up!” Grandma said and pushed us outside. A bucket of soapy water, a scrub brush, and our stifled laughter under the mango tree. Pinned to the clothesline, my brightly colored creation flapped happily in the breeze. I loved that hat.
We made kites with bamboo and tissue paper. They always crashed, but that was okay. He drove too fast on the windy island mountain roads in his little ultramarine Triumph Spitfire. At the amusement park, Daddy emerged pale and shaky after riding the corkscrew roller coaster, but waited for me while I went again. He got upset when I fared better with a drop line than he did with his expensive fishing rod.
When I was a young teen, he took me to Disney World. His camera bag embarrassed me, as it looked like a purse, and I feared someone might recognize us. So I pretended I didn’t know him and walked several feet ahead, or behind.
Daddy wouldn’t let me accept the invitation to run off for the day with the boy I met at the Disney resort. I cried when Daddy scared him away. All the boys were afraid of my daddy. I didn’t yet appreciate his protectiveness.
Daddy had his problems. At times, he missed the mark—and it was painful. But he loved his children and grandchildren. Sometimes God uses imperfect people to guide our lives if we let Him. We only have a finite amount of time to know, understand, and reconcile with each other, to extend forgiveness and grace like God does to us. I’m grateful for our time. Life is too short, and eternity too near to be at odds with those God calls us to love.
Then one day he was gone. Just. Like. That. Death gave no warning. I didn’t know that was our last I love you. I wasn’t ready. But God is the one who numbers our days; He said it was time.
Though he’s gone, his voice still echoes in my mind. “Daugh-tah, come here. Child of mine, I love you so much, yuh see,” my father would say in his accent.
My Daddy made mistakes; he wasn’t a perfect father. None of them are. Except for one. He calls me daughter too.
The Perfect Father
Relentless and reckless in His love for us,
He seeks and rescues us from our wanderings.
God is ever-present.
He is holy.
He is our help in all He calls us to,
A father to the fatherless.
He offers hope and healing to the hurting heart,
Strength to the weak,
Forgiveness from failure,
A new beginning at the end of our road.
In my destitution,
He clothed me in His righteousness.
Adopted and adored,
Never alone.
I come into His presence,
Call Him Abba, Father.
“But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12 NLT)
“You received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, ‘Abba, Father.’” (Romans 8:15 NLT)
*This piece, In Step with My Father, was originally posted on 6/10/2016. Revisions and additions made in 2017 and 6/2025.
~~~*~~~
God is the only perfect father. He is afather to the fatherless. Jesus went to great lengths to meet us where we are. He left his throne in Heaven, donned human flesh, and died to save us from our sin, and reconcile us to Himself, to God. He loves us in spite of ourselves. But we have to accept Him.
A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, Is God in His holy habitation. Psalms 68:5
For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:26 NLT
Father, daughter, son, is there a breach that needs mending? Will you start the journey to restoration? Just take one small step. May I suggest the first one be to pray; and the second,forgive? Maybe you won’t get where you’d like to on this side of eternity. Maybe you are only able to take those first two steps. That’s okay. Just start, and let God be God, the mender of hearts. Extend grace like God does for us, even though we don’t deserve it.
“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8 NKJV
“If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew 6:14-15 NLT
Then Peter came to him and asked, “Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?” “No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven!” Matthew 18:21-22 NLT
Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:31-32 NKJV
SONG: The Blessing – Jim Trick
Dads- your children, your wives, your country needs you. Will you step up to the plate?
“Here I am Father. Forgive me. Help me to forgive those who hurt me. Help me to step in Your footprints, and walk a little closer with You Jesus.”
SONG: Lead Me – Sanctus Real
Yeah, you are probably going to mess up sometimes, stumble and fall in the process. But God will pick you up. He’s like that.
SONG: Good, Good Father – Chris Tomlin
LINK TO: The Father Effect, Movie – 3 Minute Trailer (*Warning: Contains some sensitive material)
John Finch grew up the youngest of 3 boys in a suburb of Dallas where he lost his father to suicide at age 11. As a young man, John did anything he could to avoid confronting the wounds he suffered as a result of being fatherless. His craving for affirmation from a father who was not there to provide it, led him to… http://thefathereffect.com/about
Focus on the Family is a global Christian ministry dedicated to helping families thrive. We provide help and resources for couples to build healthy marriages that reflect God's design, and for parents to raise their children according to morals and values grounded in biblical principles.
To speak with a family help specialist, request resources, make a donation over the phone, inquire about general information, or to report a problem, contact us at the number below.
In answer to your question, what do I want from you:
~ I want you to see the needs of others and meet them when you should.
~Sometimes I want help, preferably without asking.
~I want time to have fun with you, not just facilitate it for you.
~I want you to respect and obey us.We really do have your best interest at heart.
~I want to trust you.
~I want you to tell the truth and to admit when you are wrong.
~I want you to cultivate a grateful heart. It will serve you well. It is one of the secrets to a contented life.
~ I want you to value your Christian testimony and the impact it has on others as one of your most precious possessions in life.
~I want you to learn to hear Jesus’ voice, to know His Word, to seek His direction for your decisions, and to obey Him.
~I want you to know and love Jesus more than anything and to do everything you can to draw close to Him.
I love you, no matter what.
Mom
To my children,
What is most important is a heart for God and a heart for people.
Pray for wisdom and common sense- own them-. They are priceless.
Most of life is work. Accept it; deal with it. Learn to take pleasure and pride in a job well done. Do not allow yourself to become lazy or complacent in the natural world or in your spiritual life.
Excelsior- ever higher.
Ad astra per aspera- through difficulties to the stars, to excellence.
Make godly character your crown.
Be jealous for your soul.
Be sober, be vigilant for your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 1Peter 5:8 NKJV
Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Proverbs 4:23 NIV
Pursue holiness. Let God’s pleasure on your life be your joy.
Keep a humble heart and a teachable spirit.
I love you forever and no matter what. So does Jesus.
*Disclaimer to all my PC friends, (politically correct): It’s okay. Really. My kids know I love them. I make a point of driving them crazy reminding them way too often.
Cast of Characters
Tom Sawyer—My 14 year old son
Lanky—Tom Sawyer’s friend
Frizz Head—My 17 year old daughter
Hippy Princess—Frizz Head’s friend
Einstein—21 year old friend of all
Myself—Chauffeur, Commander in Chief, Referee, Chef, and Scribe, aka “Moomm!”
I shoved tents to sleep six, a ton of books and lots of unnecessary supplies into the limited space of our minivan and managed to slam the doors before anything fell out. I’d planned to leave on Tuesday, but Wednesday dawned before we finally escaped with the dashboard blinking like a Christmas tree, a missing hubcap and a screaming belt. String looped through holes replaced the duct-taped trunk handle. It swished like a small tail above the license plate. That’s one way to keep me humble—or make me cringe. But it was all good! We were on our way to SoulFest Christian music festival! Gotta keep my priorities straight.
The merciless three o’clock sun greeted us at our campsite. Good thing friends a few sites down came by to watch the show as we set up. Teen boys claim to know everything about things they’ve never done, but somehow, the same useless words spoken by “Momm!” are received as great tips from a male.
Mission accomplished, Lanky and Tom Sawyer ran up the face of the mountain, something I wouldn’t have attempted at half my age and weight—which could explain why I’ve lived to be my age and why I’m not half my weight. Lanky took pictures of their testosterone driven, death defying antics at the summit and texted them to his mother. I’m not sure she will entrust him to my care again.
“Did you brush your teeth?” I said. “Brush them! Or I will brush them for you!” There! That worked.
Jim Trick plays a mean guitar and with a voice like a lullaby, I could listen to him all day. “Jesus wants you to love yourself,” he said. “Only then you will be able to love others.”
The Bible says to deny myself and pick up my cross. But love myself?
Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the Lord Your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. Tis is the first and great commandment. And the second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'” (Matthew 22:37-39 NKJV)
As Christians, we ought to love what God loves and hate what God hates. When we hate what God loves, that’s a problem. If we hate ourselves, we are contradicting God. We can’t truly love ourselves (or others as he calls us to) until we grasp God’s love for us. Biblical love tends to the well-being of its object; it doesn’t indulge or enable sin. Jesus hates sin, but love drove Him to the cross to redeem us.
Sometimes I contradict God by holding onto regret of past failings which Jesus has forgiven and struggle to extend grace to others as scripture exhorts. God reminded me that people mistreat others because of what’s broken in them. When we focus on others’ need for healing, injustices are easier to bear and forgiveness to extend.
What we listen to, read, and watch, either influences us toward or away from Jesus. We love ourselves when we nourish our souls by time spent in the Bible and prayer. Jesus invites us to come as we are so He can transform us into His new creation.
Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. (Proverbs 4:23 NKJV)
…he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6 NIV)
“Do you need prayer?” she said. We stood in the shadow of the towering wooden cross that served as an altar, a call to Christ in the middle of it all. I left some things I couldn’t change in the hands of the One who can.
Matthew West made my Friday when he pulled an altar call because I believe hosting Christian events without providing opportunity for salvation is like telling a dying man you have the cure but not offering it to him.
I found Tom Sawyer brandishing bamboo skewers like sparklers as embers floated across the sky toward our neighbors’ tent—but I’m the crazy one. And what part of, “Don’t bring food in the tent unless you want to room with a bear,” don’t they get?
It’s quiet in the bathhouse at midnight, a good time to shower. A canopy of stars lit the path through the rows of tents. In the stillness the earnest whisper of a young man explaining the Gospel floated on the cool night air.
I stepped out of my tent Saturday morning as Hippy Princess, sitting cross-legged beside the fire, reached for the lighter fluid and matches. I seized them. My phone rang.
“It’s going great,” I said. “Jesus is alive! I’m really saved—I haven’t sworn at anyone!”
I lay on the mountainside as Zealand played.
I love you, Lord, to close my eyes and hear Your Name echo all around me like a balm, solace for my soul
The heat was a good advertisement for avoiding Hell. The angels in disguise worked at the iced tea stand. I found shelter in the Justice Center during Andrew Schwab’s talk on The War of Art. It’s worth the war to push through pain, procrastination, doubt and distraction, because when I fulfil my call to write, I honor God. When I draw closer to Jesus and reach out to touch lives through my writing, He heals me too.
Jesus promises us beauty for ashes; His strength is made perfect in our weakness. But first we have to let Him uncover our weaknesses and give Him the ashes.
We were told to take cover as a thunderstorm bore down, but our bags were unattended on the far end of the venue. Cue Chariots of Fire music, as I ran in the opposite direction of the crowd and rescued my daughter’s phone from its demise. Soaking wet, I joined the huddle under the tent by the cross. Someone started singing, and then we were all singing, “It is well, it is well with my soul.” It is well with my soul, even in the storm, when I keep the cross before me.
The mountainside came aglow as we used our candles to light our neighbor’s. The shofar sounded, Rabbi Oliveira sang the Aaronic Blessing, and shalom settled over us as POD jammed out from another stage. The night closed with the real Piano Man, Michael W Smith, leading worship.
Sunday morning en route to rouse the children, I distributed my website cards. “May I pray for you?” she said. — Good thing. I needed it for the task ahead. I hope she’s still praying.
We were one of the first to break camp. Tom Sawyer poked Frizz Head with the tent stakes until she finally punched him. Hard. Hippy Princess, seated, sunglasses on, gently pressed the air away with her palms whenever asked to help. “Shh,” she said. Einstein finally awoke and sprang into action straddling our minivan roof to secure bags, and myriad camping gear. We ignored the younger boys wrestling until we noticed Tom Sawyer using his phone as a weapon to encourage Lanky to release him from a headlock.
“I don’t care where the shadows or north and south are, Einstein! Just tell me whether to take a right or a left!” I said. We were one of the last to leave. It was a quiet ride as Lanky and Tom Sawyer weren’t on speaking terms, despite my mini sermon.
My husband and I pulled into the church parking lot simultaneously, him fresh from his afternoon nap, me returning from the three-hour trip that took five. The doors flung open, and kids and stuff spilled. I slowly hauled my body to face my husband.
“Hello,” I said. “I hate your children.”
“Oh! I was wondering if you hated me for giving you children! What did they do to you?”
“You have no idea,” I said, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
“I think she’s overtired,” Frizz Head whispered to Hippie Princess as they skittered away.
Wish I’d known hysterical laughter garnered concern from the motley crew; I would have employed it days earlier.
“Vacations are hard work,” my husband said. “That’s why I try to avoid them.”
I gave him a hard look as I yanked at an article of clothing, trying to extricate it from the melded mass in the trunk.
“It’s like labor,” a friend said, laughing at my disheveled demeanor. “You’ll forget the hassles and go to SoulFest again next year!”
Yeah…because sometimes I need to see Jesus in someone else’s eyes who isn’tpart of my usual crowd. Because my son is happy hanging with the Word of Life crew, and my daughter could be anywhere, but she loves singing worship songs by the bonfire into the wee hours of the morning.
I want to put five nails in the cross, one for each of my children, and one for my husband and myself because the two shall become one, and sometimes that’s hard. Sometimes we need to nail our hopes, all that we are and all that we aren’t and should be to the cross again.
I’ll return because it’s good to saturate our thirsty, world worn souls with the Gospel served up a hundred different ways, and because I love to hear Jesus’ name echoing all around me.
Next Year’s Packing List for SoulFest, (Lord willing)
Know this, Mom: You bring things to your family that they can’t hire out, buy out, or do without.
You can hire someone to clean, buy pre-made meals, and most of the toys and comforts you have you could do without. Yes, you have duties as a mom that you need to tend to well. But the love, listening ear, and wisdom you offer your children is irreplaceable. Your prayers, Godly testimony and teachings of Jesus Christ that you impart to your children are of eternal significance.
It’s easy to miss the journey en route to the destination—to overlook or brush aside the little things, the simple things.
I’m so glad we have those memories. We were the only ones with a book bag with wheels at the time and we always had library fines; still do. I often fell asleep reading my children bedtime stories. 
Be sober, be vigilant for your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour. 
Tattoo It On Your Heart 