Citizenship

Philippians 3:20
"But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ"


     Last night I was helping my oldest daughter study for her vocabulary test today and two of her words were citizen and citizenship.  Her fourth grade social studies unit this week is all about becoming a citizen of a country.  We talked about America being our country, but then talked about how the Bible speaks of out true citizenship being in Heaven if we follow God.  Emma became giddy with excitement at the thought of this and my heart burned a bit, filled with hope, but also filled with the reality of the fleetingness of this life and how I can be often times more focused on this life.
      After much debate and talking with others, we had decided to talk with Emma about the unspeakable tragedy this week and it was heartbreaking to watch her innocence fade.  She asked many questions and we both cried together as she said her brain couldn't stop swirling at the thought of children dying and how and why something like this could happen.  She wished she didn't have to know.  She went to her grandparents for the weekend and had a wonderfully distracting time away.  Last night, her first night home since we talked about everything, we said prayers in bed after finishing up her studying. She quietly concluded her prayer with "and thank you, God for all of the little people. Amen"  She became quiet and I knew she was thinking deeply about things.   I asked what she meant by "the little people."  Her sister was not quite asleep in the bed below her and she didn't want her to hear.  She told me she had seen a picture in a newspaper of one of the little girls who had died that reminded her of Lexi.  She went on to say how thankful she was for all the children's lives who had been abruptly taken.  She talked about her fears and the fact that she hated that I couldn't promise her that this could never happen again.  She wondered how the families would ever be able to laugh again and would she be safe and why did pain have to exist and why would someone ever do this.  Tears silently welled in her bright eyes and gently spilled down her cheeks, intertwining with my own as I held her as tightly as I knew how.  I have been shaken to the core with sadness over all that has happened.  As a mother in this moment, I hated that these were questions I couldn't answer and even more so that these were promises that I didn't have the power to make to her.  What I do know and what her dad and I said to her last night is that God is much bigger than all of us and we can choose fear or we can choose faith.  We can't understand all things, that is up to God, but we can choose to trust Him and to believe that we do hold another citizenship of far greater worth.  Everyday I have to ask myself to make this choice, because right now, the thought of them even walking out the door puts a pit in my stomach.  I have to choose faith over fear, because God is bigger and that is the best thing I can do for my children.  Emma told us that she wished Jesus could come back now.  Her perspective that our citizenship in Heaven is what we live for helps me.  The faith of my child inspires me and helps me to put my faith in eternity and what I can't see.  I thank God for every day he gives me, but what I live for is getting my kids and me to Heaven, where Emma envisions a playground that is very busy and joyous right now . . .and yes, God, I too, thank you deeply for these little people and their citizenship with you.

Miles away

People come in and out of your life.  Some of them you get fantastically close to, others you aren't terribly sad to say goodbye to, some friendships fade and others remain incredibly loyal.  Loyalty is one of those qualities that is inordinately special and creates bonds across oceans and through years.  Tomorrow one of these inordinately special friends that I have is getting married.  My heart is so close to her, while my physical presence has to be oceans away.  I remember the first time I met her at a table in the Boston University student center, wide eyed and excited as a Florida girl coming to the frigid Northeast.  Talk about culture shock.  Over the proceeding months and early years that followed,  many tears fell and doubts and heartaches were felt as she wondered why life took the turns that it did.  Through all of these, Elizabeth grew to become like a little sister to me.  She has been with me through the first years of my kids life and I'm so grateful for the hero that she is to them. I'm laughing out loud thinking about our rap dance to a memorable rendition of "Pants on the ground,"  as I was desperately trying any physical exertion possible to induce what seemed to be an eternal last trimester of my third pregnancy.  I remember the awkward moments of her up close and personal exposure to the world of impassioned lactation consultants at the hospital with Kevin and me after Lexi's birth.  I remember pumpkin patches and apple orchards, overnight babysitting adventures she and another dear friend gladly took on with my kids consisting of ear infections, bronchitis, antibiotics and the dog needing needing extensive hands on care and cleaning after a ruptured anal gland (sorry to be so graphic!)--now that is true friendship!  And amazingly enough, I know she'd do it a hundred times again for me.  I don't know where in that timeline a friendship blurs into being like family, but that it did with Elizabeth, I am sure.  I specifically remember her junior year of college as many seemingly open doors in her life began to shut.  I remember traipsing up three flights of stairs being 8 months pregnant with Lexi to her dorm room and over her very gourmet-universite` style grilled cheese and tomato soup, contemplating the myriad of reasonings that God might have in why life was as it was.  I remember the deep lessons in trusting God she learned and I remember saying we'd laugh one day as I told her "I told you so," as she would see the desires of her heart fulfilled. Little did either of us know that would take her to Africa where she devoted herself to missionary work there, and now in a matter of mere hours, she will be buttoning a white dress walking down the aisle to the man of her dreams in South Africa, and I couldn't be happier.  Happy wedding day to the almost Mrs. Fulton--I wish I was there!

SUPER cool!

Lexi and I recently had to make a quick trip to the mall before it closed on a Sunday evening.  She was in a particularly chatty mood and we were discussing all sorts of topics ranging from Minnie Mouse to princesses, her brother and sister and other such deep and philosophical conversations that come from the lips of a three year old.  It was only the beginning of  November and to our delight (though really disengenuously early) Christmas songs were playing and Santa's North Pole at the mall was fully erected. We admired the area and continued on our way when right in front of us who should appear but Santa himself.  This pint sized companion by my side looked up at me wide eyed, squealing with delight and simultaneously started jumping up and down with pure joy.  With awe in her heart, I asked her if she'd like to say hello.  Santa was about to go home to his magical and mysterious local workshop, being escorted by a not-so-jolly Santa's helper.  We hustled our steps to catch up with him and I politely asked if my daughter could give Santa a hug.  The "elf escort" unashamedly began to wave us away and then as only Santa can do, he stepped back from his assistant, stooped down to my daughter's level and beckoned her to come to him.  She did so with great elation and my always conversational three year old, stood speechless with arms wide open to receive his welcomed and jolly hug.  The assistant, at this point was clearly perturbed at the fact that we were clearly cashing in on a wonderful freebie opportunity.  Santa, however, was kind, bighearted and in no rush to interrupt this moment for my daughter--for that I wanted to hug Santa too!  I exited the mall doors with a blissfully happy little girl who thought we had just won the lottery.  As I buckled her into her seat, I asked her how she felt about seeing Santa.  She looked at me and said "Mom, that wasn't cool to see Santa, that was SUPER cool!"

I am grateful, that in a cynical, consumer-filled world that this Santa cared enough to foster my child's faith in something hopeful.  It's no surprise that in the same way, Jesus dismisses his disciples' irritated attitudes to allow the children to come to him.  I can only imagine the joy and similar wide eyed expressions that came from these children's faces as they went to him with such a simple faith and joy.     It's such a great reminder to me of why it's such a calling to be like these little children.

Mark 10:13-16
 People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” ...