:the one where we are made for more:

the kettle whistles. i pick it up and move to the sink to pour steaming water over fresh coffee, my eyes scan our yard as i wait. i sigh. those darn weeds are growing in the play area again. the area we dug out carefully and covered with mulch for a nice appearance. the area where the slides and playhouse and sandbox reside. weeds. we pull and we spray and they go away for a bit but they always come back. this tending, it gets old.

you aren't welcome weeds, i think as i pull and pluck each one.

i keep a constant eye on that place. searching for any sign of weeds that may arise so that i can step in before there is a full fledged overtaking.

so familiar this turning of words and thoughts. so much like that place that harbors both beauty and bitterness. i tend and pull and tug and stand back admiring the cleanliness. moments later there it is, the ugly. so i tend and pull and tug some more.

constant this dance between forgiven and fallen.

then He whispers ever so quietly, you were made for more sweet child.

made for more.

made for beauty.
made for community.
made for motherhood.
made for love and love making.
made for encouraging and being encouraged.
made for showing forgiveness to a fallen world.
made for laughter and delight.
made for joy

made for more.



*just writing with heather today