ask for it

i haven't been here since christmas.  when it was snowy and icy and the mountains stood strong and the world was quiet- silently quiet- more sound absorbed then emitted. 

today the smoky mountains are green when close up and blue when far off and the sun is hot and we all smell like coconut sunscreen.  the lake and the trees are cool and green and full.  the dirt is red clay. 

my family, all three generations, are milling around this house.  kids are getting freckles and splinters and memories.  the dog is smiling.  finally, for this memorial weekend, there is nothing we have to do. i love this.

i've being realizing how deeply i believe in and rely on prayer.  that there is power in it- that God has ears everywhere and they are hungry for our voice- at least that is my take on it. (i'm also weak and needy and incredibly impatient).  today, by around noon, zoe had used up my allotted patience for the day- for all the kids and anything else life wants to throw at me. she drank it all up- like she was thirsty.  it was gone.  i was on empty.  this is likely more of a reflection on my diminished reserve and less a reflection on her needs.  it was the small stuff- the slow sucking away of joy- the ongoing sticky thoughts- her (probably inherited) anger.  so i found myself lying bikinied on the dock while the boys swam, and while she stomped up to the house- begging God to expand my resources.
i told myself that i'm not asked to worry- but instead to pray.  to give my concerns over to the great comforter.  to let it go.  it wasn't eloquent- it wasn't kind- it was just desperate.

"ok- this is all i've got- so you'd better show up." 

and the world spun madly on- and the leaves waved and the dock rocked and the water lapped.

"no - really.  we're not even half way through the day.  help."

there were no fireworks.  there was no descending, dramatic peace. 
what came to me, was a song- a hymn by good old annie johnson flint in the early 1900s. 

"When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources
Our Father’s full giving is only begun."

"He giveth more grace as our burdens grow greater
He sendeth more strength as our labors increase;
To added afflictions He addeth His mercy,
To multiplied trials He multiplies peace."

and with those words singing in my head, i decided that instead of stewing in it, instead of spiraling down to that place of hopeless 'what if' despair, i needed to go up to the house- so that she was not abandoned.  i needed to give her, what i was asking for- deliverance- grace. 

as i walked up the steep hill, i walked on the brown leaves that had fallen last year- before all that snow- oak leaves and poplars and bark- and i remembered that she didn't ask for this complex and often limited processing system- anymore than i'd asked for a child with special needs.  and i remembered the 30,000 foot view, the goal of helping her develop the ability to internally regulate.  i remembered, LOVE.

when i came inside- she was dressed and about to watch TV.  i calmly reminded her that it wasn't time for that and i hugged her.  she asked for a snack and i told her she was doing a good job of listening to her body and knowing she was hungry.  then i asked her to help me make something. 

it was a small moment but it was a calm moment. 

and i looked out at the trees and was thankful.  that it was all green now- that the quiet blanket of snow wasn't there- that the branches are clothed in life- with their leaves wiggling, receptacles of my desperate words- sending them echoing upwards- so that grace can then fall down- and i can feel the joy.