Joy!

You are the light of the world - like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.

~ Matthew 5:14,

When my kids were little, I always knew when they were content and happy. They exuded joy naturally. My son would gallop instead of walk--everywhere. He would suddenly break into this little trot that sang out "I am the happiest kid in the world." My daughter would sit quietly, playing, and suddenly just start humming--even before she could talk.

Through these natural reactions to their life, they outwardly exuded joy. I know they never thought about showing their joy--they just did. Like the verse from Matthew, like the city on the hilltop, their lights could not be hidden.

And, in outwardly reflecting their joy, I found peace and joy along with them. I knew that all was well. I knew that they felt safe and happy and loved. I was grateful I could see it in them. Their joy, in turn gave me joy.

Joy is infectious. But, we need to enter into relationship with others to share it. We need to look beyond our own four walls and our comfort zones and be the city on the hilltop--beaming with joy. We need to become beacons of light.

When work gets really busy, like it is now, I tend to turn inward. I say "hello" to fewer people on the sidewalk. I don't stop to chat with a colleague like most days. I close my office door--sending the message not to stop by. I stop being the beacon, and my light dims. I feel it. I stop showing the joy for life that I generally exude.

And so, today, the message from Matthew reminds me. I need to "hum" or "gallop" a bit so that my light will shine --at least a little, even during the busiest of days.

How will you let your light shine today?

Letting Go, Keeping Faith, and Loving Unconditionally

I sat on the blue leather sofa, gas fireplace burning, as the first light of day broke through the darkness. The house was mine at this hour. Even the dog left me alone. Time with God. Quiet. Calm. Uninterrupted.

And so, I prayed, as I did so often recently, "Please God, cover him. Keep him safe. Help me to trust you." God knew that prayer was coming every day while my son was overseas last year, in a remote village, in a country that was giving him the experience of a lifetime.

For me, it was the first time that he had been that far away, without a group of friends or people we knew and trusted to look out for him. I trusted our son enough to let him go, but once he was gone, I had to learn to have faith that he would be okay.

There was nothing that I could do 7,500 miles away.

Despite one stint in the local "hospital," our son arrived home unharmed -- a little thinner, older, and wiser, but safe. God kept him safe and healthy. And, brought him home.

Today, my prayers in these early morning hours have shifted. Our son is across the country, no longer in a poverty stricken country. Instead, he is in the throes of urban-American-big-city life, grappling with his faith.

It is a familiar place. I grappled with my faith at his age, too. Questioning, doubting, not finding God relevant or consistent with the life I thought I wanted. Turning away as I lived a life that was less than what I knew was desirable. And, so, I have hope and faith that my son will grapple and fall back into the arms of a loving God.

As a mom, I have few details about my son's internal struggles. But the details don't matter. He needs to grapple with his faith, more so than he needed to go to Africa to grow into a young man.

I cannot tell him what faith is or should look like. He has known what faith is and who God is, but he needs it to be real and authentic for it to remain that way.

Rather, I need my son to know that it is okay--even good--that he is grappling with his faith. I need to let him know that I love him unconditionally. No matter what.

So, he seeks.

And so, I sit on the blue leather sofa, gas fireplace burning, as the first light of day breaks through the darkness. Time with God. Quiet. Calm. Uninterrupted. And, I pray, "God, cover him. Guard his heart. Reveal yourself to him. Pursue him."

God is faithful. I need to trust Him completely. Instead of asking God to bring our son home safely to us, I ask God to bring him home safely to Him.