Small Graces Easter

It is Easter Sunday.

I was raised in a theatrical Christian faith. Prosperity gospel is founded on large miracles. Big Faith motivates everything. If you don’t have Big Faith, then God can’t work. God seemed to be this Giant Wizard sitting on a throne waiting for me to obey just the right command. Then and ONLY then could he bless me. For years, I strained against this yolk of Christianity. Wondering what was wrong with me. 

Jesus said, “My yolk is easy and my burden is light.”

I felt heavy and constantly failing. 

Then Easter would come. I would be reminded of the BIG miracles all over again. Around and around this faith Merry-go-round I rode.

Much has changed for me over the last 20 odd years.  My disillusionment with the Big Miracles revealed Small Graces.  

God reveals himself to me in fingerprints.

So when it comes to Easter. The biggest holiday of our religious year, it isn’t the rolling stone that excites me anymore. I don’t need the fainting Roman Soldiers or the Magic Jesus appearing in the room. 

The Jesus I’ve come to know and see in my life is the one who:

Came to Mary when she was alone and distraught in the garden. She sat next to the tomb wondering where He was. Agonizing over what she would do next. Jesus met her first. Alone. Before anyone else. In a small intimate, loving moment he says her name. Once Mary is comforted, I imagine Jesus smiles at her lovingly then disappears. In joy she rushes to the upper room to tell the Disciples in hiding that Jesus is alive.

The Jesus who walked along the Road to Emmaus talking with Cleophas and another Disciple. They were very discouraged and confused. Jesus joins them on the path, asks what’s troubling them then explains it all.  By the time they get to their destination the two men understand who Jesus is. All doubts and fears cleared away. In this small moment of walking and talking, Jesus revealed who he was, comforted them. I imagine Jesus just smiles at them lovingly and disappears. They in joy return to Jerusalem to tell the others.

The Jesus who sits patiently on the shore. Peter, wrapped inself-loathing, figured it was all over. Jesus was gone. No more changing theworld. Confused with his What’s Next, he returned to his original job. Fishing.  Peter, sitting on the boat, frustrated after a dark morning of no fish. 

Peter heard a familiar call from shore, “Throw the nets on the other side.:

Suddenly the nets were full of fish. Peter jumps out of the boat and runs to shore. Most people talk about the magic fish, or the usual Feed My Sheep redemption sermon. 

Not me. 

It’s the small miracle of Jesus, just sitting on the shore. With a basket of fish, cooking breakfast for Peter.over a fire.

In all three of these Easter moments, Jesus met them where they were. To me that is the Miracle of Easter. God, the Divine, an Unconditionally Loving Higher Power come to meet me right where I am.

The Small Graces

Mary in a garden. Distraught.

The Divine comes to say my name with reassurance and let me know I am not alone or forgotten at the mouth of death.

Cleophas and another walking, probably home, disillusioned.

The Divine comes to help me understand when I am confused at how life didn’t work out. I am granted guidance when I am lost in what to do next.

Peter back at his day job. Humiliated and confused.

Most of all, the Divine comes to nourish me when I am depleted. When I feel like an absolute and utter failure. The Divine comes to simply sit with me until I am restored.

*The first 10 who subscribe to my YouTube channel and leave a comment here on the blog are eligible to receive a free digital download of the Small Graces Tryptic. * Sunday April 12 only. Giveaway closed.

These works are available on my Etsy today.

An Ode to Poo

They’re cute, right?

Ase just into a toddler bed and Zany in a crib shared the master bedroom. With space to play and a huge window to watch the traffic drive by, they thought it was perfect.

Ase would wake up early, grab a few toys and give them to Zany in his crib. They would quietly play until I came in to get their day started. Ase would be changed and dressed first. Then Ase continued to play, but with one eye on me while I got Zany ready.

Then… the flu.

Ase got it first, then Zany. Both still in diapers. Carefully holding my breath I would peal back to reveal toxic waste.

After a few days, I went to the doctor. He told me about BRAT foods: Bananas, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. Doctor said it worked the same as Amodium and was better for them.

Ase responded quickly. Within a day he was solid and back on regular foods. Zany was slow to improve, but as they were tucked in that night I expected he would be fine by morning.

Their quiet murmurs greeted me as I walked down the hallway next morning. With a spring in my step and the hope of a poop free day in my heart, I opened their bedroom door.

Zany looked at me with dreamy blue eyes from the floor. Diaper gaping open. Brown goo smeared all over his legs and belly. Ase sat next to him: with a clean diaper and a hand full of wipes, his golden brown eyes met mine with pride:

“Mommy! I help Zany!”

I looked over at the crib. Sheets were spotted with caramel. What could I do? With a heart filled with love for his best friend, Ase gathered all the cleaning supplies, then somehow lifted Zany out of his crib. I couldn’t get mad. This was what we were working toward.

Brothers that worked together.
Brothers who would help each other out, no matter the cost.
Brothers who would work out differences.

So… I got down on my knees and helped him clean his brother. We talked about the mess. I told him how proud I was of him. That poop cleaning really is a Mommy and Daddy job, but I really appreciate him trying. It was a very loving thing to do.

THEN I cleaned every surface of that room. Praying nothing was left behind. What happened next was Legen...dary.

They traded that crap for the next six weeks.

I began to hate BRAT foods. They weren’t a savior, they were bondage. Just when things would get solid and they would try regular food, all went loose. In a fit of desperate crazy after Oprah one day, I made up the preschool germ nuking formula-1 part bleach/10 parts water- and cleaned the shit out of that room.

God often whispers this memory to my heart when I reach out to help someone. Ase was too small, to immature to effectively help Zany. How many times do I walk into someone’s life to help them but, instead make it worse? Many times the answer is simply to love the sinner and let Holy Spirit do his job. God is much better at cleaning up shit and getting the job done.

Finding Good Enough

I am a perfectionist.

Not the kind that does everything perfectly, but the kind that gets anxiety when things aren't perfect. 

When I see a flaw I feel shame. I feel the need to repent. I want to crawl into a hole and lament.

It is the perfect first ingredient in making an anorexic. When I was eating only one meal a day, I felt in control. The little mistakes didn’t hurt as much because my body was in perfect discipline. The best days were when I never even felt hungry. I took Jesus’ words, “Deny yourself and follow me” a little too literally.

Then I found recovery.

First on the agenda was acceptance. I was not perfect. I would make mistakes. I had flaws. The point was to grow from mistakes and strengthen my weaknesses. Jesus knew I was filled with shortcomings. That is why God sent him.

To fulfill the Law.

To make me free.

He was perfect so I didn’t have to be.

The most important application of this new flaw filled life was the need to accept “good enough.” Often I wouldn’t start a project because I knew mistakes would be made. I would measure once and then cut twice. In painting, the outside of my hand would pick up a dollop of wet color and smear it outside the lines. I would panic. Wanting to throw it all away and try again I would hear Holy Spirit’s sweet words:

“It’s an opportunity.”

The blob of paint became a flower.

See, the point was not a perfect project. The point was showing up. Starting, working through the middle and then finishing.

So armed with this new discipline, I began to manage life.

Housework- good enough.

Cooking-good enough.

Relationships…

Now, marriage is not perfect. In fact, it is the opposite of perfect. Marriage is exasperating, refining, puzzling and laughter filled. One of my major snags with Counting Mutant is this:

He’s an accountant.

 An auditor to be precise. He loves to look at a pattern and find the flaw, then point it out so it can be fixed. Then… perfection. With his wisdom and logic, short comings can easily be rectified. Mistakes can be fixed. All of the columns add up.

Earlier this week I talked about my new found freedom of falling. He lovingly messaged me a few errors I might like to rectify. Of course I immediately felt hurt. Vulnerable.  Then I walked through the mantras:

I need to take criticism well.

It is for my own good.

It’s not personal.

He loves me, that’s why he points out my flaws.

Then Holy Spirit turned on that light of understanding:

A Perfectionist married an Auditor.

I realized it wasn’t personal. It was simply a clash of perfectionism. I looked at the critique again. Fixed what I thought was important. Not every mistake needs to be fixed. Sometimes they are left to remind us of grace.

To teach us about Good Enough.

Sin and Spam

Sin.

I keep hearing that word.

Sin.

And I wonder if it means what we think it means.

Sin-short coming, falling short, mistake, missing the mark, rebelling against God, pride, selfishness, total depravity. All words cultural christianity uses as synonyms for that word.

I hear a faint chorus singing in the tune of the Monty Python Spam Sketch:

“We have Jesus, grace, forgiveness and sin, 

We have Forgiveness, sin grace and sin.

We have sin, sin, sin, Jesus and sin.

We have grace, sin, sin, sin, sin and sin.

We have sin, sin, sin, sin, sin, sin, Jesus and grace.

AND we have sin, sin, sin, sin and sin.”

Studying Romans this year in Bible Study, I read it in the notes and hear it in the lecture, yet when reading the text from Romans 2 thru Romans 7 I hear Paul saying something else.

After the infamous first chapter that everyone quotes ends with this verse:

“They know well enough God's righteous decree that people who do such things deserve to die; yet not only do they keep doing them, but they applaud others who do the same.” Romans 1:32

Then Paul turns around in Romans 2 to kick the reader’s keister.

“Therefore you have no excuse, whoever you are, passing judgment; for when you judge someone else, you are passing judgment against yourself; since you who are judging do the same things he does.”

The rest of those five chapters talks about our freedom in Christ. How we now practice the law because of grace NOT because of a need to fulfill it. In Chapter 7 he makes the whole thing personal in verse 7:

:

“…the function of the (law) was that without it, I would not have known what sin is. For example, I would not have become conscious of what greed is if the (law) had not said, ‘Thou shalt not covet.’”

We are all guilty of that. Pride triggers jealousy over what someone else has. Our contentment challenged births jealousy which expresses itself in envy. Envy feeds greed and around the merry-go-round we go. Not one of us can say we are free from it. Even Paul confesses in Romans 7:15

“I don't understand my own behavior - I don't do what I want to do; instead, I do the very thing I hate!”

Growing up I was always told, “Hate the sin but love the sinner.” It applied to everyone who was not a Christian. My soul felt a little sick every time I heard it. In high school a Mormon friend and I debated the concept: this friend who I loved, but it was approved to hate her religion because it was sin. I walked away from that encounter never able to say it again. What is sin in my life may not be sin in someone else’s.

I am called to love my neighbor as I love myself.

For people to know I am a follower of Christ because of how I love others.

To get the log out of my own eye before I try to take a speck out of my neighbor’s.

So while the interwebs are throwing around the Sin ball, I will be over here working on my own shortcomings. Struggling to let go of my own resentments and learning to love others. 

All while singing the Spam song.

The Unlovely Around My Heart

“Be angry, but don't sin - don't let the sun go down before you have dealt with the cause of your anger; otherwise you leave room for the Adversary.” Ephesians 4:26-27

I thought I was over it. But my brain has a mind of its own and every holiday season I am reminded of what is missing.

I want to be done.

More tears have been spent on making myself be peace about the circumstances. I have forgiven those who misrepresented me. In my own strength extended grace to those who choose to believe gossip. I understand that who I am will never be accepted. I don’t hold it against them. They have their own pain to deal with. I cannot judge them because I did have a part to play.

I have owned my part. Offered amends for my shortcomings and accepted that the damage is irreversible. No longer do I feel the need to be understood or validated. I only wish them well on their life journey.

Yet…something irritates.

I re-examine Forgiveness: analyze it from their point of view. Where were my expectations unrealistic? What life experience motivated the choices they made. I feel empathy. I understand. I check to see if I hold any expectations of justice or reconciliation with them. I almost feel peace.

Then… something burns under the surface of my soul.

Anger is checked and I filter through all its definitions:

Anger is a secondary emotion, find out the primary source and resolve it. Then anger will diffuse-check. Did that.

Anger is a messenger. Ask her what the question is, answer it and then anger will be satisfied- check. Did that.

Then GirlyK and I were watching Bones. Sweets interrogating someone said, “Anger is triggered by unmet expectations.”

A glowing hot spear stabs my heart. I missed my own feelings. I never allowed myself to simply feel. Every examination has focused on them. Empathy, sympathy, forgiveness and grace extended to them, but never for myself.

My brain recoils: that’s selfish. That’s not Christlike. Indulging my sin nature gives room to all kinds of evil. I am not supposed to think about me in this situation for it to be resolved. They were the ones wronged. Not me…

But I must. I must filter through it all again this time granting permission to feel. The tools of recovery have taught me only through truth in love can real healing occur.

I awaken at 3:00 with the realization of this unlovely truth: I feel resentful. As I try to fall back asleep, Holy Spirit gently unravels the thick black wire shield which encases my beautiful pink heart. Looking closer I see barbs which point outward, intending to protect my heart from harm. The Still Small Voice calls them resentment. On the inside of the wire are smaller, sharper spines. Still Small Voice calls them bitterness.

In the hands of Divine Love I understand that while I protected myself with frustrated resentment, each time my heart encountered those people, the shield pressed into my heart. Those little spines of bitterness added pain which triggered a landslide of anxiety. Longing for freedom I submit to the Healer. As I release my own feelings, a healthy prettypicket fence will surround my heart. With healthy boundaries I will have clarity.  True grace will I finally be able to extend

And the best gift of all: Shalom.

Loving Hostile People

Originally posted on March 15, 2009

To love hostile people is something followers of Jesus are called to do, but most of the time it is nearly impossible. Armed with Sunday School lessons and my own strength, I fail miserably. In a particularly difficult moment a cried to Holy Spirit and wisdom flew into my aching soul.

A practical outline formed as I pressed into that Blessed Fount: how to overcome resistance, bitterness, rejection and wounding. A how to act as a result of being released into a grace expressing life.

First, I am to love my enemies and pray for them.  If love is action, then it is the foundational attitude. I am to act in kindness in spite of what another does to me. Holding in my thoughts that everyone does what is right in his own eyes. The consequence is a type of blindness that doesn't allow them to see what their actions’ effect is.

Jesus said, "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing."  Following Christ's example leads me to not judge. A friend explained it this way; anytime a conclusion is drawn about someone, that is a judgment. I need to remember, that I do not know their purpose.  It is not my responsibility to interpret their motives. If I draw a conclusion tainted by my own pain and then condemn them, I judge and condemn unfairly.  It is better for me to choose to not get even which is forgiveness and act in love toward them which would be mercy.

With that attitude adjustment in place, a look at myself is in order. Do I have a log in my eye?  Do I lend without an expectation of payback. If I act in kindness toward a person I struggle with, I cannot expect them to reciprocate. Remembering that my inheritance is in Father, He will pay me back. Acting in love towards those who love me in return is no challenge at all. 

This does not mean becoming a doormat. In looking at Jesus and how he interacted with the Pharisees; he was always kind, truthful, and extended grace to them. Yet, he did not allow them into His inner circle. There is no need to vulnerable with those whose intent is not healthy for me. I have permission to protect myself. It can look like silence. 

Look at Christ's example: when Jesus was arrested at night and tried with false witnesses, both against Jewish law. When confronted by the Pharisees, Jesus turned their own laws against them in John 18:19-24:

"Meanwhile, the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and his teaching. 

'I have spoken openly to the world,' Jesus replied. 'I always taught in synagogues or at the temple, where all the Jews come together. I said nothing in secret.  Why question me? Ask those who heard me. Surely they know what I said.'  

When Jesus said this, one of the officials nearby struck him in the face. 'Is this the way you answer the high priest?' he demanded. 

'If I said something wrong,' Jesus replied, 'Testify as to what is wrong. But if I spoke the truth, why did you strike me?"

Jesus knew what was truth.  He knew Father had a plan and chose to obey it at all costs.  Confident that in the end justice would prevail. When faced with injustice, I need to remember the truth Holy Spirit speaks to me. I can turn the other cheek and not respond to their judgments or criticisms. Secure in what God is doing in me.

My response can be praying for them. If there is a practical need, meet it.  When interaction occurs, reply with words of kindness. All the while, letting God work out the justice.

Peace of Mind

Originally posted May 26, 2009

With so many cultural distractions and stresses, it is almost impossible to find a place of peace.  Bookstores are filled tomes on how to find this allusive tranquility of mind.

I believe in a loving Creator God who has a plan for all human kind and created laws for us to follow. Paul wrote to the people in Philippi living in a metropolis filled with diversity. As these Philippians grew in faith, Paul encouraged the anxious believers in Christ by giving them a practical method of finding peace in their tumultuous culture.

“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally… whatever things are true … noble …just …pure … lovely … good report … virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy – meditate on these things.”   Philippians 4:6-8. 

Whatever I am anxious, worried, stressed, puzzled or disturbed about, that concern is taken and turned into a prayer through writing, praying aloud, meditation, the ways to express it are endless. The method doesn’t matter; the subject is laid before a Being Greater than myself.

Second is to focus on good things, anything wonderful, beautiful, or positive. God is the source of all things good. I allow the unpleasant thing to pass and focus on something else-the thoughts are captured and put in submission to Jesus. As I discipline my mind to change focus the Holy Spirit is allowed to move.  The sweet breath of Holy Spirit brings peace on my troubled soul. The Spirit counsels me on what to do next. Sometimes it is immediate. Sometimes it is later. Most of the time, my attitude changes but sometimes the situation will change.

I pray you will see God the Creator, Jesus the Word and Holy Spirit the Counselor in your lives today. 

Counting Costs

Originally posted on February 4, 2012

Her eyes widened. Behind the swirl of olive, gold and brown her mind swam desperately for an answer. With frustration and twelve-year-old honesty she answered, "I don't know what it means."

I turned to her ten year old sister across the table. "So, if you had to choose Jesus over your Mom, would you do it?" Her jaw dropped and a rim of tears warmed the corners of her eyes.

We were studying Luke 14:25-33:

 "Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said: 'If anyone comes to me and does not hate his father and mother, his wife and children, his brothers and sisters--yes, even his own life--he cannot be my disciple. And anyone who does not carry his cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.

Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it?  For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, 'This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' 

Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple."

I remember as a kid, listening to this passage and feeling terrified at the contradiction. Sunday School taught us the Colossians 3:20 words as the answer for everything, “Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord." 

Now Luke was telling me that I was to love God above everything else, even if it meant hating my parents.

What is a good Christian kid to do?

When I asked adults in my life, the fumbled answer was: just ask Jesus into your heart and read the Bible. It will make sense if you don’t have any sin in your life. 

I think they were just as confused as I was about the whole thing.

In preparing for this Girls’ Bible Study breakfast, I knew the something better was required. As I prayed and pondered it hit me; maybe Jesus' words meant exactly what they meant. It was not a flippant arbitrary statement.

Then words these words echoed: count the cost.

For my Grandmother, the cost of her becoming a Christian was disownment from her family. God brought my Grandfather, who introduced her to the Gospel. She spoke proudly of the Jesus who loved her enough to give her hope. She counted the cost and loved Jesus more.

I realized it doesn't mean expecting disownment or rejection because of a response to that holy call. It means to stop, and consider what I am willing to give up. The choice is not consequence free. Friendships may be lost. Family abandonment or employment may change.

How often have we prayed never pausing to consider the cost of the answer? Patience is prayed for and what follows is a difficult season. I hear friends respond with flippant sarcasm, “I prayed for patience and look what it got me. I won't pray for that again."

My response to those girls was this: Counting the cost is stopping to think. If I choose an action, am I ready for the result? If I ask to grow closer to God, am I ready for a season of dependence? Do I pray for someone's healing without pondering the possible damage from the metamorphosis?

Counting the cost looks like a conscious and purposeful prayer motivated by hunger to understand God better accepting whatever the consequences. When I pick up my cross, I am choosing his method of answer and laying down my own. This action grants me the grace to endure.  The result always is an unexpected answer: I fall deeper in love with Jesus.

More than anything I want to see him more clearly, love him more dearly and follow him more nearly, Day by Day.

Unicorn Poop Christianity

Getting to know God through a 7th grader eyes is a holiday of wonder. This year I served in our church's Jr. High. That first night, the sweet, church raised girls had their minds blown. Nothing was off topic. Farts, boobs, butts, boys and theology were on the table.

One night in talking about all things relevant to Jr. Highers we talked about Unicorn Poop cookies. I promised to bring them one night. Little did I know it would prove to be a marker of sanity for me.

The series for the year was an overview of the Biblical Narrative. Sunday morning was the formal teaching and Wednesday night we discussed. Most of the stories they knew from Sunday School. What was most amazing though was how little truth they understood. Discussion questions measured out as we sat together each Wednesday.

The discussion would begin with glib answers.  Quickly these were labeled "Sunday School" answers. The girls were allowed to share only one Sunday School answer, then they had to come up with a real one. Quickly it became a contest of who could say the cheesiest one. After great laughter, we would begin to discuss the reality. What does "A man after God's own heart" mean? What is sin? Does God hate us? Why did Jesus come? Was Bathsheba an immoral woman for that bath? Did Sampson have dreadlocks?

 This is where things became REALLY interesting. These girls, who had grown up in church, didn't understand what sin was. They just knew it was bad. The topic of temptation was a brain cramp. The concept of the Triune God, they had no clue. In our final weeks' discussion of what the Gospel/Good News really was, the faces were blank. What does eternal life mean? Why did Jesus really die? Who do we share Jesus with if we are supposed to only have Christian friends? How do I deal with a Christian girl who is really a bully? She's my friend, but...



One of my rules was: If we can't talk about it at church, we shouldn't talk about it all. We shared stories of my bizarre boys, anime and what inappropriate really was. Through the vault of truth, their faith was being formed. The flame of Holy Spirit's gift was growing. These girls began walking away from Cultural Christianity and into a budding relationship with a loving Savior. They realized that Holy Spirit lives within them and talks to them through the still small voice, scripture and situations. They stood up to bullies at school. Relationships at home took on a whole new understanding. Salvation became real. A sisterhood formed.

Last night was Leader Appreciation Night. All day my skin crawled with anxiety. I didn't understand or agree with making "leaders" accept forced accolades. With the tray full of the magical Unicorn Poop cookies in tow, I endured the games to win a prize for the leader. We giggled as the girls tried to remember "The Main Idea" from the year's sermons. They didn't win the "prize." All were dismissed for the last 30 minutes for freedom with the leader. The carefully guarded Unicorn Poop was taken to our group spot which happened to be in a popular area. All grabbed the glittery, shiny poop and began to share.


I began with my best bar voice to tell each one what I loved about them. Their spiritual intuition, teachability, humility, love for others and grace. When I was done, to my surprise, the girls wanted a turn to share what they liked about each other. The room full of vulturing 8th grade boys vying for video games and girls' attention, each one graciously loved on each other. Uniqueness was celebrated. My closing comments to them were :
I want you to walk away from this year with these truths;
Seek out scripture for yourself, don't simply accept what is taught from the front of the room.
Don't just become "Christian" friends but be friends who encourage one another in Christ.

In the middle of a game playing chaotic Jr. High room, they cheerleader shouted, "AMEN!"

I looked at what unified us throughout the year. Unicorn Poop. The magical, mysterious and mythological Sunday School stories were formed into a truth that was real and very delicious. That was all the appreciation this servant needed.

Divine Mother's Day

This was originally posted on May 7, 2011 after a girlfriend and I discussed the challenges of Mother's Day. My hope is that hearts will be opened and those who struggle with the day will be welcomed.
Enjoy.

Her name is Nurture.  She risked life to birth a person. She corrects those under her instruction.  When advice is needed, it is her counsel we seek.  Mother is who she is.  The intention of Mother's Day is to take a moment and honor the gifts of this woman.  For some the day is filled with laughter and joy.  For others, it is a day of regret, filled with duty or loneliness.

 My heart is pained for those who struggle with Mother's Day.  Women who have experienced abortion or loss of a baby, face the emptiness.  Those whose mother has passed on, gaze into loneliness.  Others who have a strained relationship with their mother, practice the duty of honoring her station. These people stare blankly at the thousands of cards in the store. They painfully weed through affectionate declarations for a simple factual card; a needle in the haystack. For those looking on, what should our response be?  

God is referred to as a loving Father.  Scriptures support and help define what a loving Father should be. God takes that place for the Fatherless.  The New Testament calls Jesus, the Son.  He is our example of what we, as children, should act like. Those who struggle with the spiritual example of a mother search those same scriptures and wonder; who is the Mother to the Motherless?

In Genesis 1:1- the creation narrative- God decided to create, then he spoke.  In John 1:1 we are told that Jesus embodied His spoken word.  The Spirit hovered over the waters. The word used for Spirit here is Ruwach, a feminine noun.  The Spirit was the application of thought and word to physically create.

In Proverbs 4, Wisdom is referred to as a woman.  She wants to teach right ways of living.  In the New Testament, Jesus tells his disciples he will send Holy Spirit to exist with them. The word for Holy Spirit is the gender-neutral noun, Pneuma.  Jesus described Holy Spirit as comforter, teacher, counselor and nurturer: these are same roles as Wisdom in Proverbs.  In our quiet moments with the Loving Creator we find the example of a loving mother in the person of Holy Spirit.   

            Jesus was teaching one day when he was told that his family was outside to speak with him.  His response:

 "Those who follow the will of my Father, they are my brother, sister and mother."  Matthew 12:50

In Jesus, we are all family. No one should be alone or neglected. The great comfort for those who find themselves with out a mother or child on Mother's Day is the Divine. God is the complete and perfect parent. To those who feel loss in the day we should welcome them in as family to our celebration. For those who find the day empty; consider a woman who has filled the void and honor them. Her loving support should be recognized. This way all will experience the Divine Family Jesus was talking about.