Month: February 2013

Yesterday afternoon I was standing in an aisle of Target perusing the shelves, trying to get my tired brain to remember what it was I was looking for, when I heard my name. Or a variation of my name, anyway – one of the many that my speech kids use.

“Meeh Marizone!”

Peeking up out of a cart at the end of the aisle was the stunned face of M, one of my 4 year olds. This is my 5^th year on the job, but this was the first “community sighting” of one of my little guys. I walked over, gave him a hug, greeted his parents and his little sister and chatted for a bit.

“You buying snack?” he asked, since we were in the snack section. Indeed I was. Next week, our letter is “J”, and our shape is oval, so I showed him the bag of jellybeans I was getting and whispered conspiratorially for him to keep it a secret. He nodded very seriously. “OK.”

We said goodbye, and as they disappeared around the corner, I heard his little voice piping up, “Mommy, how my teacher get here?” You remember how weird it was to see your teacher outside of school. I was always convinced they slept at their desks or something.

The sweet encounter lifted my weary heart. Things have been bumpier at work of late, with changes and uncertainty galore. But then, there’s M in a cart at Target, smiling and excited and incredulous. Oh, thank you, Lord, for these kids.

There are 15 of them right now. Because of the nature of my therapy setting, they are generally bright, engaged kids who really, really “can’t talk good”. They can be hilariously funny or genuinely affectionate or they can drive me up the wall. They require tons of repetition, tons of patience, tons of love.

The former requirement is easy. The latter two are impossible. In order to truly show patience and genuine love to them, I need the Lord. So on the way to work, I pray for my 15 by name. I ask for wisdom for me in treating their disorders, and for progress toward their goals. I pray that I would show them Christ’s love.

But first, I pray for their salvation. It’s easy to forget in the midst of correcting sound errors and modeling proper grammatical structure that there is something much bigger than communication delays going on here.

My kids are most importantly precious souls for whom Christ died. Jesus gave his life for them so that if they would believe in him, they “will not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16) And so, thankful for the ministry of prayer that even my anti-God workplace can’t hinder, I entrust them to their Creator, knowing he can and will provide a way for them to hear that best of all news.

Then I walk inside to greet my little darlings.

It’s wonderful how God uses visual illustrations to remind us of who he is. This week we got several inches of snow. Well, it’s February and it’s Wisconsin, so that’s not unusual. What was odd, I thought, was how the snow coated the trees and then stayed on for a couple of days. Usually the coating only lasts a little while before it melts or the wind blows it off. This time, it just hung on and on, beautifying the skeletal winter tree branches and delighting my heart.

The effect was stunning, especially when contrasted with the inevitable nastiness that follows snowfall in the city. Within a few hours, the streets became lined with piles of ugly dirty snow. Slushy mud puddles multiplied. The pure whiteness was gone.

Until I looked up. And there was that unspoiled snow, clinging to the tree branches and causing me to rejoice in its Creator.

As I drove or took walks during those days, I thought about the lesson so clearly laid out in front of me. Down here on earth, it’s dirty. We are people spoiled by sin. Our daily circumstances can be very hard. It’s easy to get discouraged and lose hope as we look at the problems around us and in us.

But when we look up and gaze upon our unspoiled Savior, resting in his beauty, love, and goodness in the midst of the slushy puddles of earth, oh, how our hearts will rejoice.

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
-H.H. Lemmel

I’ve come to hate the fact that I am so surprised when God answers my prayers, says “yes”, and moves circumstances in my life just the way I asked him to. It’s sad that I’m shocked when these situations happen, because I think it reveals my heart.

What – is God in heaven some kind of stingy ogre? Is it so incredible that when I ask for something specifically, he often gives it to me? It shouldn’t be. He is my Abba. He loves to give good gifts, like any daddy. And if something will be for my best and his glory, he will delight in lavishing his grace on me.

I’ve been thinking about my surprised response to answered prayers lately as my studies have taken me to Acts 12. There, the apostle James has been martyred, Peter is in prison awaiting trial, and things are looking dismal. A group of believers meets and prays “earnestly” (v.5) for his release. Miraculously, God intervenes and sends an angel to rescue Peter, who then proceeds to the house where the believers are praying. At first, they don’t believe the servant girl who informs them joyously that Peter is at the door, even telling her she is out of her mind. Then, when they do see that it is really Peter, they are “greatly astonished” (v.16).

My initial reaction to reading that was, “C’mon guys. You were just praying for his release. How can you be so surprised that God got him out?” Heh. Pot, meet kettle.

Shock, incredulity, astonishment. All of them carry a whiff (or more) of disbelief. Disbelief isn’t really the response my Daddy is looking for when he blesses me with goodness. Joy, relief, thankfulness, praise – yes.

Surprise – no.