Mothers With a Dream 4 Christ

Hi there my lovely friend, welcome to: Mothers with a dream 4 Christ

FAR, FAR, AWAY

“If my hands are fully occupied in holding on to something, I can neither give nor receive.”

Dorothee Soelle

Van Gogh: Potato Eaters

It’s the day after - MAN DAY

It’s chilly, as chilly can be.

I wonder if the world, its children feel the chill, as I do. One eye half open. I welcome chill with half an eye. If that makes any sense. Half baked they say, for a job half done. Mediocre or just plain lazy. Am I then lazy on this chilly morning? Eye is half open, not completely open, just enough to make out -five zero zero on my clock. Its five AM. Time for rise and shine. Or is it - shine then rise. May be am supposed to smile, then rise. Laugh then rise. Pray then rise. Sing then rise. May be, stretch then rise.

Rise and shine Christine.

It’s been summer, nights have been hot as hot can be. No reason to shut my glass windows from the rest of the world. The breeze, is beautiful in the summer. I gave it room into my heart last night. Left it wide open, for the morning breeze. I felt a twinkle on my feet. A chill, a cold slap. It’s never this brutal. Always so gentle. Gentle and oh so soft. I wonder what happened this morning.

Mya turns 7 today.

She’s deep in sleep. I am staring at her. Today, she doesn’t suck her already wrinkled old looking thumb. She is curled up like some french fry off the fryer. Should I tap her, or let her sleep in beauty? Its been 7 years of heavenly bliss. I don’t want a tap to change the spell of beauty. Tap or not, I wonder. Oh, Mya God bless your soul child. This is your day, not mine, not theirs, but yours. Shake the dust off your feet. Dance like nobody’s watching. Sing, sing my child. It’s your BIRTH DAY. Born this day, you were. Behold, the stars are shining, on this chilly morning. Beautiful just for you.  

I tap.

She rises.

Smiles then rises. Rubs her eyes. Hugs then rises. “It’s my birthday mama.” she says in a groggy voice. “Happy BIRTH DAY Mya.” With a big huggy bear hug mashing tinny winy little heart. Am wrong. My little Mya has - big, big heart. She is - kind and oh so beautiful.

He would be sixty one.

Sixty one

Living and loving life.

She says I suffered from - apathy. Apathy? mmm. Please explain, I say. ”Its a form of the inability to suffer.” “It is understood as a social condition in which people are so dominated by the goal of avoiding suffering that it becomes a goal to avoid human relationships and contacts altogether.” (Dorothee Soelle - Suffering)

I say to her how horrifying and terrifying it was. Taken in a blink of an eye. Wanted nothing to do with love. Love hurts. It sucks. It’s so painful. Such suffering it was. Torture, cruelty in the highest. Nothing, nothing made sense. Nothing to calm my worn out spirit. Nothing. Questions no answers. Tears no laughter. The storm is almost over. Oh, no its not. It only just begun.

“Killing is death before completion of purpose. Dying is death after purpose has been fulfilled.” (Myles Munroe - The Pursuit of Purpose)

They killed him, I tell her. She speaks from - far, far away. Pass my love, I say. Six feet under she is, but her words carry - breathe of fresh air. “Apathy.” Free from - suffering. Free from agony of love. Ache of family. Free. I still wondered why they kill. Steal purpose before its completed. 

“Death, always cruel, Pity’s foe in chief. Mother who brought forth grief. Merciless judgement and without appeal! Since thou alone has made my heart to feel this sadness and unweal. My tongue upbraideth thee without relief.” (Dante Alighieri - Death Always Cruel)

Chill is flying home to be with - family. Off to the skies she goes. Its getting warmer. The sun is rising, birds are singing, Mya is awake. Its BIRTH DAY. Merry, merry day. McKenzie, rushes off to paste her teeth. Its brighter, the chilling darkness of yesterday is gone. Chill of that day. Long, long ago, still lingers on. Less chilly it is today, but still very present.

Time, heals they say.

Yes, it does. It heals - apathy. Brings peace. He brings peace and healing. 

Apathy, replaced with LOVE and PEACE

Rest in peace lovely dad.

***

LOVE & FAITHFUL FATHER, WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!

Just as I am, One day at a time

Love you dearly: Christine Babu

Hi there my lovely friend, welcome to: Mothers with a dream 4 Christ

TURNED, STILL COULDN’T FIND YOU

“The more perfect a thing is, the more susceptible to good and  bad treatment it is.”

Dante Alighieri

Raffaello: Sposalizio della Vergine - Piancoteca di Brera Milano

It’s Monday

 The last one of August

Monday, my groggy brain cracks half open to the thought of how little a name for a day that begins titanic. Half awake, barely opening my glued stick eyes, I wonder what a name. For a second I wonder if everyone, or is it just me in this sometimes senseless world thinks Mondays, should, must, be named something else. Something earth shaking. After all in my world, it represent just that. Earth shaking. Knee jerking. Tongue twisting and so much more. Its - giant looking, cockeyed body represents so much for so little a name. If He asked me to rename Monday, glady I would bestow upon it - ANTICIPATION, ANXIETY and OH MY, STAY AWAY. 

Anything good ever came from Monday, I think to myself. ”Beauty awakens the soul to act.” Beauty? In - MAN DAY? No Dante, not - MAN DAY. TUESDAY may be, but not - MAN DAY. What good is - MAN DAY? Is  it for - men a day to savor their - MAN HOOD, one sometimes lost in ALL we call life? May be - MAN DAY is - day of solace. Away, far, far, away from the - twists and turns of a wacky household. MAN DAY, far, far, away from - nagging wife, sometimes - irritating and insecure in her own insecurities. Is MAN DAY FREE DOM for them? FREE DOM from it ALL. I wonder. Their day, not yours, mine, but theirs.

MAN DAY. 

Hip, Hip, Hooray - MAN DAY.  

The day clothed in utter darkness. Rich green leaves uncurl from fetal position of the - cold, chilly mash-mellow night. MAN DAY is here. Twilight in the morning of MAN DAY. Paths paved in pitch black dies of - gloom and doom. Broken, mended feet about to take off into MAN DAY, only to discover - MAN DAY is not their own, but their’s. The one’s whose wacky time at home, has come to an end, and glory to HOSANNA for - MAN DAY. Away, far, far, away from  - nagging, irritating wife, even if for a few hours. 

Am cold, my heart doesn’t like - MAN DAY. The gals are breathing gently in - deep sweet sleep. Am awake to usher - MAN DAY. I would rather not, only if for a good reason. Usher only to bring me my - Romeo. For our - Ministry. Usher for a beautiful - Ferrari or even for a stroll on the beach while shopping in Italy. MAN DAY, what do you have for me today? Rest, please if only you bring back storms of last MAN DAY. Rest. Arise only if for good.

I was in battle most of night, the rise has not yet made way for light. Wonder where the sun is rising. Do you prefer today to rise in another’s world, I think. Day without light. Alaska in California. I want to rise, not to MAN DAY, but to - TUESDAY or WEDNESDAY. But, but I need light even on MAN DAY. Especially on MAN DAY. A day I would rather, not - dare walk in utter darkness. Not on MAN DAY. Am tossing and turning, up and down. My two blankets are inter twinned and am now in deep battle. I am scared. Panicked. Worried. I can’t seem to find Him. He feels so - far, far away. MAN DAY, I don’t like you. Daddy, where are you? Where is Daddy? Have you also taken off from this wacky family? Nagging, insecure, anxious child. Taken off, far, far away. Are you in day of - solace, I wonder. I can’t feel your tender kiss, blowing gently past my cheeks. You did’t wake me this - MAN DAY.

Am not happy to be starting MAN DAY alone. I feel alone. Stripped of  joys of - TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY and even THURSDAY. Daddy is in solace. He says He is not, but I feel He is. I can’t find Him. He says He is right beside me. I am praying, and can only utter one sentence. He knows my thoughts. Or does He? I wonder. If I can’t feel Him. Can’t see Him. Can’t touch Him. Can He see me and remember my - thoughts? I say AMEN, in frustration. I have to get going. Walk, walk, walk. It’s MAN DAY. No room for my - worries, fears and anxities. It’s their day, not mine. Am all alone on - MAN DAY. I will walk MAN DAY in prayer. Pray, walk. Walk and pray. Pray, talk. Talk and pray. Pray, cook. Cook and pray.

MAN DAY pray.

Pray ALL day long. 

***

LOVELY & FAITHFUL FATHER, WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!

Just as I am, One day at a time

Love you dearly: Christine Babu

Hi there my lovely friend, welcome to: Mothers with a dream 4 Christ

WONDEROUS PLACES & WAYS

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

Matthew 11: 28-29

Piero della Francesca: Leggenda della Vera Croce

To say that I always believe without a shadow of doubt, is for me to say I believe - the frail looking German girl, with an astounding gift for music, will undoubtedly go on to touch the lives of millions and even fulfil her dream of singing in the opera. Even as she suffer’s continually a disease that heats and chews up her vocal cords, so that the mere sound of - Hallelujah to Hosanna is a painful an act as cutting through her veins. To say that I believe in such - bleak, brutal, uncertain and life threatening situations, is for me to tell one a lie.  

To say that - my faith and understanding always stands strong behind every madness of our turbulent life, even when reason is no where to be found, often found - months, years past, sometimes never found. To say that - indeed my faith is never shaken in stormy weathers, even when the path we walk is but a river in the Nile, would be for me to tell a lie to - you and My Father in heaven. 

To say that - I don’t understand why Samantha and her friends on a cool summer afternoon decide to hop onto their bikes for the park, as they usually do on Saturday afternoons, riding carefully past the not so busy streets for the hundredth or so time. And as the lights motion green for them, a drunk driver suddenly appears from nowhere, brutally hurting Samantha and killing two of her four best friends. To say that - I don’t understand why that happens. Why some live, and others die, in such - insane, perplexing and shocking situations, would be for me to tell the truth. 

I wouldn’t dare say - I understand, because I simply don’t

Seated in an elegant house in the company of strangers his (Frederick Buechner) host, who is herself deaf directed a question at him. “I understand that you are planning to enter the ministry,” she said. “Is this your own idea, or have you been poorly advised?”

Poorly advised? she asked.

Now that is a thought that I would lie if I said - has never crossed mind. Why, on earth do we, I, serve in ministry? More bizarre some would think, is our belief in One whose sight we’ve never come to see, but whose wonders we say has led us to see Him. Omnipotent. Ever-lasting God we say. They might wonder how ludicrous one can get. See, to some, some sometimes being me, it can seem at first a fine line between an - hallucination, dream and then comes the reality of - I AM who I AM.

I would say that - I believe in - I AM who I AM simply because my doubtful moments are over shadowered by occasions of clear - signs and wonders. That - even when I don’t understand why He doesn’t heal Andrea Bocelli, my world’s greatest classic artist of his blindness, that the clear purpose of his being, which we’ve come to see in his being, despite ALL odds leads me to - believe, even when I don’t quiet understand. That its because of - an Aussie man born without - limbs or legs. One who goes on to touch the lives of many, once again, overcoming ALL odds, that I still believe. Though questions I might have. Why, for example after he has gone on by His Grace to touch the lives of many, through His word, has He not given him back what I think he deserves - his legs and limbs? 

I also in a very unnatural way believe because - personally not through the lives of others, but through my very own, have seen His wonders. That, despite the ugliness that sometimes drowns our beauty, He finds good in us. That, in listening keenly to His - saints, we’ve come to also listen to a voice beyond just the natural. Words spoken, in and out of this world. That when we - turn our backs to what seems to us as - filthy beggars, we simply and in essence turn ours on - Our Lord. That in seeing the - sick and healthy, rich and poor, broken and mended, evil and good, I see Him. Creator of ALL. No matter what or where life takes us, He is - ever present, always willing to touch lives, even those we dare not touch.

Not always will I understand. Just like Frederick’s host, I might sometimes stumble over my choice to serve. But, despite all the - uncertainties, doubts or even fears that might crowd my already crowded thoughts, one thing’s for sure - there lives One whose powers are simply beyond our natural abilities. Whose presence I’ve/we’ve seen in lives of many. And even in moments when faith I lack, I still can not find myself another to serve.

He is the only One I know to serve

Yes, true it is - 

This life, I/you live, might for obvious reasons seem - ludicrous, preposterous and even outlandish, but it’s our life and we LOVE it!!! 

CHEERS!!!

***

LOVELY & FAITHFUL FATHER WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!

Just as I am, One day at a time

Love you dearly: Christine Babu