Pieces of my Heart

clipart courtesy of this site

I love my children.  I wouldn't change anything about my family dynamic, as crazy as it is.  4 kids 6 years old and under.  Crazy, right?  But awesome.  But sometimes I wonder why God gave me so many children.

Not because of the stress - which there certainly is a fair amount of.  And not because of the craziness or anything like that.  But because He KNOWS me.  He created me, after all.  And He KNOWS that I worry more than the average person.  About EVERYTHING.  Like panic-attacks-in-the-middle-of-the-night worrying, and that was BEFORE I had kids.

Here's the thing, and any mother will tell you the same thing.  Before you have kids, you have a normal sized heart, maybe even on the larger side if you have something you're really passionate about.  But then you have a baby, and you're not just giving birth to a child - you're giving birth to a piece of yourself, a piece of your heart.  The heart that stays in your body doesn't shrink, it grows to envelope the piece that is now on the outside.  And then you have another child...and another...and another.  Your heart never shrinks.  Oh, no - it grows infinitely more than you thought possible.

But now you have a dilemma.  You have several large pieces of your heart walking around outside your body, open to all the evils, dangers, and horrors of this fallen world.  You can't even begin to protect them from all the things that could harm them, and you come to the very acute and painful knowledge that life is fragile and there is NOTHING you can do about it.  Cars crash, diseases ravage, mistakes - sometimes tragic and fatal - occur.  And for all those mothers who have had this happen, they know that a piece of your heart dies.  You are never whole again and never the same.  No, I have never had this happen to me, praise God, but I can imagine.  And the imagining sends me to my knees in fear.

But I'm not on my knees crying in futility.  No, I'm on my knees before the throne of the Creator, begging His mercies.  He's my Savior, my Daddy, the one my soul desperately needs yet all too often fights against.

 "Daddy, PLEASE!  Protect my children!  I can't do this!  I'm terrified!!"

"Peace, my love.  I've got them.  Trust me."

"But, Daddy, something bad could happen to them!"

"Yes, it could."

"But I can't handle that!  My soul, it aches just thinking about it."

"My soul ached, too, when my son was tortured and died, but I did it for you..."

"How did you do it, Daddy??  How???"

"Sweetheart, I hold the future.  I hold the universe together in the palm of my hand.  I knew how the story ended.  I always know how the story ends, even when you don't.  And I'm always looking out for you.  It may not look the way you think it should, but everything works together for your best, to make you holy, and for My Glory.  Trust me."

"Daddy, I..."

"Trust me.  I love them more than you ever could.  I sent my son to die for them, too.  Point them to me.  If you want to protect them, release them into my hands - every second of every day - and TRUST ME."



Have I figured out how to do this?  Not even close, obviously.   Do I fail ALL the time??  Yes.  But when I'm on my knees, He reminds me.  I should be there much more often than I am.  Perhaps then the fears of this world would evaporate in the light and heat of His passionate love and glory.

"My son, do not let wisdom and understanding out of your sight,

    preserve sound judgment and discretion;  

they will be life for you,    
an ornament to grace your neck.   
Then you will go on your way in safety,  
and your foot will not stumble.  
 When you lie down, you will not be afraid; 
when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.   
Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked,  
for the Lord will be at your side and will keep your foot from being snared."

                          - Proverbs 3:21-26