a faith observed: God loves a cheerful giver. And so do I.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

God loves a cheerful giver. And so do I.

This morning I showed Simon a letter received from World Vision, asking for money to help buy food for families suffering from hunger in Mozambique. There were pictures and we talked about how these children needed food and that the letter asked if we had any money we could give to help. I asked Simon, "Do you have any money?" "Yes! I have money in my choo choo train bank." "Would you like to give your money to help buy these children food?" And then he immediately ran to his choo choo train bank and said he wanted to give them his money. We counted the many coins- $1.60- and I was so proud that he wanted to give them it all (especially as he's been saving his money for a sweeper attachment for his new John Deere tractor). So we put his money in the envelope and I told him we'd send it away and he was really happy. And so was I.

2 comments:

Judith said...: How wonderful -; June 11, 2010 at 5:26 AM
Marge said...: Good job sharing your passions with your little ones, Liz! And I am so proud of Simon!; June 12, 2010 at 12:10 AM

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This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.