Skip to main content

The Mothering Journals, Post 2

Oh, my Lord! Something just happened.

My kids and I baked something super special for Dad aka Shawn Ryan, because in all truthfulness I missed his birthday by being in Florida on business. I've been trying to think all week of how to do something special (and how to one-up his grandma's AMAZING chocolate-chip brownies she made for him).

Anywhoo, after our delicious project was in the oven, me and the kids retreated to the living room to bask in the amazing aromas. My son was gabbing on and on in the background about how dad was going to love our project, and emphatically started insisting how much we loved him. This is what happened:

"Mom, we love dad. We LOVE him!! We REALLY do!  God gave us love, not fear! He gave us the power to love, He gave us wisdom!

DEAR GOD(elevated voice), thank you so much for giving us LOVE. Lead us to the cross! Lead us to the cross!  God thank you for giving us WORSHIP! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!"

By this time me and Bean had joined in giving thanks and praise, led by little Kristian. From a religious standpoint, homeboy had just become filled with love and awe and the Spirit of God! He didn't speak in tongues, but there was a sudden energy, sudden outpouring of determination and insistence that came out of nowhere. He continued to pray and ask God for wisdom to love, and for the spirit of love to be given to us. Afterwards, he said "Whoo!" and we all "whoo"-ed. We had all caught some of what he had. He then said "That was AWESOME!" panting from his elevated heart rate, no doubt.

I tried to hard not to laugh at the mini-revival we had together in our living room, and right now I am trying so hard not to cry. For a child to embrace, remember,  and speak forth such power and under such authority is shocking and takes my breath away. I was thinking the whole time, "This boy is called to speak and to renew and revive the spirits of those around him! He will be a speaker and perhaps a preacher." After his sermon, Kristian asked to listen again to the song "Lead me to the Cross" by Hillsong. It was the song I had put on the day before in the morning while making breakfast, and worshipped to in front of them. I often quoted the Scripture when they tell me they're afraid that "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of peace, love, and a sound mind." (2Tim 1:7)

I know God and I both know what I'm thinking and questioning inside about who He is, where He is, and that I'm trying to really figure some things out about my belief and faith systems. But my son, he's firm in what he knows to be true. All the work I've done up until recently to instill Christian principles into him and his sister has obviously not been in vain, and I can't take all the credit. Other people have poured spiritually into my kids, and I am so grateful. They need to have hope, and for most of us today that hope is in the blood of Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

"Hey God, I don't know where my journey is going to lead, when I'll feel you wholeheartedly again. But I know one thing-I saw you today. A little boy named Kristian Padula spoke about you so convincingly, and he's for you."

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

White or Black? Choose ONE.

After a long hiatus from blogging, I was finally inspired to pick up my virtual "pen" and write after reading, crying, and being inspired by an article in the May issue of Ebony magazine. Catapulted in part by the remarks by Halle Berry in a past issue of Ebony regarding her view on her daughter's race, this issue is chock-full of articles regarding mixed persons' views of themselves, their families, their mixed-raced children, and what they regard themselves as racially. The crying ensued as relief-that I am not alone, that others feel as I do, that I can share my feelings without the fear of judgement. That I can be honest about who I see myself as. Because this is about ME, not about others' feelings or perceptions of me. Not about what is "politically correct" regarding my raceor allowing society to push me into a "neat little box" of either Black or White. As an adoptee, my Black parents always made sure I knew what I was mixed with, b...
6 comments
Read more

What I Wish I Would've Done

Everyone handles grief differently. I would say I hold it at a distance, tolerating it in small spurts. My Great-Grandmother Donna Langdon died recently. Although I only knew her for a short time (being reunited 6-7 years ago after being adopted), I find myself missing her. I handle death in a very meticulous way. First, I being to tell myself that it will soon happen, sometimes preparing many, many years in advance. I have done this with my grandparents, and I did this with my great-grandmother. Some people say they "don't think about it," but I'm the opposite...I understand it as a normal part of life, I forewarn myself of it's pending coming, and gently remind myself every so often so I can figure out the best way for me to handle the situation. This may seem morbid to you, or insensitive even. Truth is, if I don't think about it, plan on it, I'm not sure how my grief process would end up. For me, death is the ultimate separation in this life. I...
6 comments
Read more

Why I am so Flipping Honest

My mom always said, "Always tell the truth. Even if you think you're going to get in trouble. I need to be able to trust what you say, because one day you're going to need me to trust when it looks like you're lying." I never forgot that, and I began my truth-telling as a young lady. Even when I was telling the truth, I still sometimes was perceived as lying. But I held to that code of honor 99.9% of the time for the next years of my life up to this day. There were times I became defensive and eluded an honest view of myself and something wrong I had done, but I came around. The lie I most regret is the one to Mrs. Rabeler, ninth-grade algebra teacher. She was a very smart, sharply-dressed woman who taught at Lansing Christian High School. Man, was she brilliant at math. She wrote neatly on the overhead, and nobody even thought to disrespect her, I don't think. The one rule we all had is that we could NOT chew gum in school. We had a brand new school and e...
2 comments
Read more