A love note just because.

Hey you.
I haven't quite figured this out. I have got a lot on my plate lately, & somehow I have been crowning myself with more. But I felt like I was neglecting you, like a little child following his mom around the kitchen as she is so caught up in the boiling water & rolls in the oven & the husband on the phone telling her he's running late. & all the while the little thing waddles in her trail, arms up, looking for the best kind of nurturing, only found in a mothers arms.

Not saying I have the touch of your mothers arms, per say. But at times I feel the need to nurture you with words that build, & stories of new & old & wanderings unwound. Stories soothe. Stories relate. When the world tickles your ears with fairy dust, this is your safe place. These are my arms. This is your hug.

You can because I believe in you & I know your God.

You know the aunts (like me) & uncles & grandparents who like to brag that they know Santa? This is identical. Because they are not lying, as what children don't seem to realize is that they live in the North Pole & Santa is realer than real. You were conceived by Santa.

Woah.

So when your aunts & uncles & grandparents talk about how they've got the inside scoop, they do. They've seen the heartbreak, joy, blessings, sadness, longing, missing, all. They've seen the tears that fill those eyes like a pool, sustaining each other to the top until there's only room to drop like rain. They know passions & what brings disappointments & what the best Christmas present would be. They know.

God does, too. He knows where your shortest fuse is & He knows what buries you in an overflow of emotion. He knows how much you have loved & how much you have lost. He's delighted over your most innocent days & He's working through your droughts, building streams & stirring the rain clouds. In your forgetfulness, He remembers.

So He is strong, eh? He is great, loving, & I trust Him with you. I trust Him to squeeze you with that overbearing, yet secretly comforting, uncle hug & that lipstick residue grandmother kiss. He is more than capable to care for you on your worst hair days & He is not challenged by your unshaven rebellion.

He loves you, dear one, & that's all I have got for you. Just a bundle of hugs, a bundle of his words that embrace like the arms of a crush, stirring the birds to chirp & the butterflies to invade your stomach.

I wish you the most delightful Christmas, in which Jesus comes alive & your candlelight service trickles the bright love into your heart, softening the callouses through His warming miracle. I pray He invades your family gatherings, filling the air with a joy so supernatural that your faith is increased & a fearlessness is born. This is the mushy gushy. This is the warm fuzzy feelings. Jesus has come. Precious Jesus.

BLESSINGS TO YOU & YOURS.  BE FILLED.

SAMANTHA

 

 

 

PS: I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY LOVE YOU.