I lie in bed, with my grandson tucked in beside me. It’s a season I know will disappear before too long – him wanting to share the big bed with GiGi, Pearl the dog, two snuggle bears, special blankets and extra pillows, and a tiny stuffed fox named Checkers. His little sister sleeps upstairs, and Poppa happily finds rest in the guest room.
In the big bed, there is always reading. There is always dreaming about all the “what ifs” of brand new days fifty-seven-eleven years from now. This week, he’s introduced me to the brilliance of On Beyond Zebra, and I’ve shared the eloquent simplicity of Babar the Elephant. And he’s fallen in love with a gentle book called The Prayer Tree.
“We love words, right GiGi?” I smile, and say, “Yes, Sawyer. We are words people.” I pray he always loves words. I pray he understands their power to work good in the hearts and lives of people.
Quiet moves into the room, and the words from The Prayer Tree echo softly.
“Nothing can be loved at speed. God lead us to the slow path.”
I pray he learns to love well. And I pray he learns to be loved too.
I pray the little sparks of grace already lighting up within him will become a fire that burns up darkness.
I pray he will always be captivated by the wonder of small things – a tucked away path, a lizard dancing on water, a young buck dashing from grove to grove.
We thank You, Jesus, for giving us breath today. Thank You for breakfast in Poppa’s tent, for crispy bacon and a bright sunny day that reminds us just how brightly You shine for us. We thank you for letting us hear four different birds singing at the same time, almost like a wind symphony. We thank You for green grass and playing washers and swimming at the neighbor’s pool, and the chocolate cake that was a gift from our friends at the Italian restaurant, just because we went to see them.
I pray space will be made for his imagination, for his voice, for his creativity, for stories to be written and written and written again.
I pray faith will find him faithful and willing to take step upon step with footlights as his guide – even if the world around him races.
“Nothing can be loved at speed. God lead us to the slow path.”
I think about all the things I’ve tried to love fast – people and jobs and passions. But real love – the love that endures and sacrifices and sees beauty and says, “you first” – is a tree with the deepest of roots that give it strength to survive and keep blooming. I’m learning that the slow path, with its twists and vistas and shadows and detours, is filled with the richest of love. And I’m learning to walk that path with family, with friends, with every gift and opportunity and burden God has given me.
“GiGi, read the unravel prayer again.”
“Let it go. Let it out. Let it all unravel. Let it free and it can be a path on which to travel.”
I pray that for him. I pray that for the little sister who sleeps upstairs and the Poppa who graciously rests in the guest room. I pray that for me. I pray that for you now – that we will be unafraid to loosen the grip on the things we cling to, and let their unraveling become the tapestry God weaves to show us just how much He delights in our journey, how much He delights in our love. What He weaves will not unravel. He will not let us fray.
The house is filled with quiet now. I think about the birds and the grass and the sun shining so brightly. I pray about the unraveling, and the slow path – and a story emerges from Matthew 6.
Take a moment and watch the birds above you. They are effortless in their beauty. There is no worry about how feathers are falling or what colors are in style. There is no fear-filled hoarding or fighting to keep. There is just flight, just nesting, just singing praise.
Take a moment and rest in the flowers and green. Not one blade or blossom frets about its position. Not one worries about how it is designed. And yet all are perfection.
You, love, are flowers and green to God. You are feathers and flight. You are more beautiful than beauty.
Take a moment. Take a moment and believe that, love. And let there be flight and fragrance.
“Let it go. Let it out. Let it all unravel. Let it free and it can be a path on which to travel.”
I wrote these words a year ago. Now reading them, as Sawyer, his little sister Tyler, and the rest of my family live in Arizona rather than right down the street, “let it go, let it out, let it all unravel, let it free and it can be a path on which to travel…” takes on a deeper and more profound meaning.
Praying for you is an honor for me – for the things you (like me) need to let unravel into the hands of God, and for the courage to take the slow path. Please send a note my way and I will be faithful to pray.
P.S. Last year at this time, I took a break from social media to tend to the slow path and work on some things that were close to my heart. This July, I’ll be doing the same (because last year was really good for me). This month, in addition to spending GOOD time with my family and some friends, my friend Courtney and I will be publishing “for you, love,” a responsive prayer journal that invites you to savor time with God – and benefits folks who long to serve orphans and vulnerable children around the world. My proposal for a book on grace-filled leadership, featuring women leaders from across the globe who have changed my life, will be completed and (hopefully) embraced by an agent and publisher. And I’ll be speaking once again at the Launch Out Conference in Tulsa. As always, I’ll be sharing stories of hope with Orphan Outreach and writing for some great leadership publications. I’d love to stay in touch, so please subscribe to my TinyLetter, “A Little Note from Me – Just for You, Love.” You’ll get updates on how things are going – consider them letters from camp, if you will. Subscribe here!
