Dear boys,
Sometimes I make up stories for you at night. They usually have farm boys, or cow dogs, or semi-trucks in them, and they always have cows. You laugh at them and then ask if they're about you and sometimes I say - no way - it couldn't be, but most of the time I just grin and whisper - you know the answer to that boys.
Most of the stories involve some adventure or a bit of crazy chaos, and they usually have a lesson to learn that involves kindness.
You've been fighting a lot lately. You fight about waking up, about packing your back packs, and about who gets to get in car first. The 12 minute drive to school involves tears most of the time and ends with 2 boys waving goodbye as I practically shove you out of the car just praying that you're better at school than you are for me.
I'm not sure why you're fighting more than usual, but I have a bit of an idea. Although our life looks pretty peaceful from a distance, there has been a lot of frustration, exhaustion, and stormy attitudes. We've all been really great for the people we need to be great for, but then as soon as it's just the 4 of us, the greatness disappears. We've been trying to do all of the things that have to happen on our own and have forgotten that the God that gives this peacefulness surrounded by blue skies is the one who directs the steps of our day.
I'm sure He's been shaking his head at us. Shaking and laughing just like the leaves that are falling and twirling and swirling around our world right now.
We think we know right were we're headed and how we're going to get there.
We're sure we know.
And we get there and then realize that the dust is so thick that we can't do anything without Him.
We stand and we watch, and we quietly see Jesus.
And then the arguing stops, and the light shines just right and everyone works just the way they're supposed to.
And you can almost hear God whisper ... "this is what it's supposed to be like" ... "this is it."
And the dust settles, and the sun starts to set and the story of that day comes to a close.
The lesson in the story that needs to be on repeat is that we are nothing on our own. Nothing.
The light, the dust, the dogs, the cows, the chute, the pens, the muck, the loud words ... it's meant to be a reflection of something great.
But it can't be great unless you know where the greatness really comes from. And that greatness isn't something that just happens. It's planned, it's already been written, and it's waiting to be lived.
... but we aren't always living it the right way because we're trying to control everything that isn't meant to be controlled.
Here's to a new season. One of listening and waiting and watching for the greatness we need to lead us to greatness ourselves.
A greatness that follows the footsteps of Jesus.
Loving you through the dust -
Mom
