permission

i love the ways that God shows up.  but i especially love when he shows up in the words of my mother who called me last night.  this might be the second time she's called uganda.  she's of that generation that has had to put up with a tremendous leap in technology during their lifetime.  missionaries in africa were people you sent those thin pale blue letter/ envelope combination air mails to- not people you could just call. you didn't call africa.  she spends half the time on skype remarking about how amazing it is to actually be able to see us through the computer (if she can find the button to turn on the camera). so i was thrilled when i saw "private no." show up on my phone- i knew it was the US- i was hoping it was her.

once we'd adjusted the pace of conversation to accommodate the slight international lag- it was so good to hear her voice.  there is no one like my mom.  there is no one like the one who loved you for 9 months before you were even born.  she said the things i thought she'd say- but didn't want to ask for.

restful seasons are important.
you're doing a lot.
please allow yourself to breathe.
has zoe even been in school for a month?
didn't you just adopt a child- or actually isn't it even more complicated then that?
regrouping is not just important, it's necessary.
let the dust settle.
wait.
do not over commit.

i needed to hear that from someone who has known me my whole life, and watched me burn the candle at both ends, and tended to my burns from the burn out.  i needed to hear that from someone who knows about sacrificing for others, someone who as mothered, who follows God and prays for me and mine many times a day, someone with the gift of discernment.

it was why she'd called.  she responded to that still small voice inside her, i know it's calling africa, but she needs to hear from you.  she needs your permission to breathe. a voice she has been listening to for almost 70 years. a voice she doesn't question or second guess.  a voice that has guided her.  a voice she raised me to seek and listen for and trust and obey.  it's not just her knowing me- it's her knowing the one who made me.  her words mean more.

there it was. reminding me of the kind of mother i want to be. the kind of friend i want to be. reminding me to pay attention to what i'm being called to say to others- and then to actually say it- even when it's inconvenient, or expensive, through time zones and across oceans.

we are the hands and feet of God on earth- sometimes we are also her voice. and we are not so far away.