Grace Blanket

The skin on my chest is raw.  And my heart is torn and undone.  Twice tonight I held that boy who claws at me, until his anger gave way.  I whispered my love to him.  Real love, words that I really meant to say.  

In those moments there is a surrendering and a fighting.   But not what you think.  I am surrendering.  Shutting down my flesh circuits which long to fight or flee.  Surrendering to the Lover who loved me when I was ugly. Loves me when I am ugly and I claw against His goodness.  

And there is a fighting. Fighting for the heart of that boy.  The enemy fights for it.  The King fights for it.  I don't want to presume a thing, but maybe there are arms that must stay steady until the sun sets.  And maybe those arms are mine.  I'm certain that they are held up by you warrior prayers in the valley.  And I'm living for that day when I hear the Lord: "write this in a book as a memorial and recite it...I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Moses built an altar and named it The Lord is My Banner; and he said, "The Lord has sworn; the Lord will have war against Amalek from generation to generation" (Exodus 17).  

Amalek, who comes in right after the divided sea and the manna and the quails and the rock water.  And right before the family framework is set up between Father God and His children.  

Who would dare rise against this One who causes the earth to swallow whole armies?  

Who would challenge the miracle work of the King...attempt to harden the heart once more? What is my boy's Amalek after?  A heart bound up so tight - nothing comes in, nothing goes out?  Is he not after the same thing in me?

But they, we've, been told "I will draw out my sword, my hand will destroy them". 

The "Wo Ai Ni" grace that I keep whispering wins. And he sinks into my arms.

Finally, sleep comes...and then I crawl in next to the older boy.  The one who sat in his bed, headphones on and listened to the screaming until he could take it no longer and quietly asked for an escape.  He spoke of the best part of his day - swimming with cousins.  And when asked about the worst part of his day...he thinks and thinks.  I'm certain he's going to relay the nightmare of listening to his brother scream not 15 minutes earlier.  But no, he says "mom, I'm not sure that there was a worst part." What? Something is hiding those moments we just ticked through.  A grace blanket. 

And I think of the younger boy at dinner.  Who stares at the family pictures on the wall and he wants to know if that's him, that baby in mama's arms? I just stare.  Is love just covering us all - totally hiding us under a grace blanket so much that he doesn't remember he was born into this family only 36 days ago? 

There's a little girl too who won't tell you she's struggling.  She wouldn't tell you why she imitates his outbursts.  Why she yells phrases that sound foreign.  Why there's a mess in the bathroom again because she didn't listen to her body.  And now she just waits for mommy to come and sing.  I sing and I worship, she sleeps and my heart is hidden under the wing of the Protector.  The One who just keeps singing and spreading His grace blanket over me.