Wings

The older I get, the more I realize I need "mothering".  Not wiping my nose, picking out clothes, feeding a cold or starving a fever.  Not those kinds of things, but the nurture and attention to detail that a mother gives.  The older I get, that's the kind of thing I realize I need.

 I like what I read in Psalm 63:7 "I sing for joy in the shadow of your wings."  The whole reason David sings is because God is his helper.  Because God is faithful, and is always his Helper, he can sing for joy ... Not in the limelight, not up front as the leader, not way in the back of the line, but right snug and cozy under the shadow of a wing.

I like that.  I like that when my pot roast burns, I'm under the shadow.  I like that when anxiety plays tricks with my mind, I'm under the shadow.  I like that when my hormones rage, I'm under the shadow.  I like that when a daughter on another continent hurts, I'm under the shadow ... And so is she.  I like the care that God gives to me.  He's not a hard task-master.  He's not a military general barking orders.  He's not a supreme dictator allowing me permission to come forward on bended knee's and lowered eyes.  He's a protector, a Mama hen so-to-speak.  He's so much more ...but I like that He keeps me right close to Him.

Doing a little singing for joy myself,
Christina