Bread for stones

Jesus gives a powerful analogy for the love of God.

He said that human parents are evil but they still give their children good things. Fish instead of snakes. Bread not stones to eat. He then completes the thought–if we are so messed up but we still do right by our kids. How much more does God bless, love, and nurture?

Great, unless your parent doesn’t do those things.

What if your mother gives you a snake? What if your father gives you stones for bread? What then?

God is enough. He allows His precious children to be raised by wolves, but He sends a Lamb to save us.

Stones always remind me of Jesus. I think about the weight of small stones and imagine the size, weight, and impossibility of the stone in front of the tombs.

God gave his own most beloved son a stone. And that Son emerged alive. The Bread of Life.

Stones for bread.
Bread for stones.
Always Jesus.

Our Inner Voice

I just read a poster–

the way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.

Wow, I thought, true.

I remember my grandmother’s wake–old style, do-it-right southern luncheon. I could hear her voice in my head exclaiming over how delicious the fried chicken was. That was the last time I heard her voice.

My mother’s voice haunts me. I miss her laugh and her intelligence and her occasional generosity. But there are many things she says to and about me I do not miss. I have taken steps to avoid those painful words.

After my daughters’ counselor read Just she said, Now I understand why you are such a careful parent.

I want more than anything for my children’s inner voice to be one of profound wisdom and love.

A love that lasts forever.

She rummages through

The dragon was aware of her deficiencies–her reptile bulk, her scaly and inhospitable limbs. She had fierce clawed mitts where a Mother’s hands should be. At best she was barely adequate for the task of parenting a human child. While the little one slept in the crook of her arm she began to search through her vast piles of objects for anything that might help her to nourish and sustain this tiny child whom she already loved deeply.

A long time coming

She knew what it meant to live a thousand years. She could see beyond the curve of each horizon.

As with all dragons, she was a searcher and until the child changed the focal point of her immaculate sight, she wandered to and fro collecting the glinting treasure others failed to see.

She looked in unexpected places. It was never enough. No matter how much or how costly the gleaning, once acquired it only served to remind her of her empty soul, her brooding heart.

Until the child…

The Baby

At first there was stillness, the even breathing of the child. The dragon marveled at the tiny child–how beautiful he was and how much she loved him.

She could not bear the thought of ever being away from him. She was afraid of what the world held. Plus, she was beginning to worry about food. What would she do? What could she do? She was a dragon.

Imagine an ordinary dragon

Had a human child
She would hide herself
With clever disguises
A colorful kerchief
Or floral apron

She would
Measure her breathing
Careful always
To hide the wisps
Of steam and smoke
Rising from her armored chest

But you would know
You could tell
The little things
She could not hide

Her bloodshot eyeballs
And cerulean scales
The wrinkles of a thousand years of waiting
For the child she held
So dear