This is the post each week
Where I join a community of grace-filled wonders
Over at Lisa-Jo’s.
And we write unabashedly
For five minutes time.
Without editing or backtracking
On one word alone.
This week’s prompt:
For weeks upon weeks he’s asked for the same song. And I try so hard not to groan for it’s really not a going-to-sleep song. He can’t see me doing the motions in the dark and yet he is adamant with his request that they must be done.
So he closes his eyes and I try to create a safe space for dreams. I make sure he hears my hands building. Wisely on rock. Foolishly on sand. With rains tumbling down and floods rising.
Some day I’ll have to explain how I’ve made up the last three verses.
But not tonight.
Tonight, my 4 year-old miracle of a boy will go to sleep knowing our house is built on Jesus. He’ll know the rains can’t penetrate our hearts. Sure waves will come crashing, but our foundation won’t crack.
He’ll know when the floods of life rise, our Savior becomes our life raft.
And some day I’ll tell him all about roots and how they don’t have to be buried here.
Roots don’t need a zip code. They need a Savior.
I already have his Bible picked out. The one my husband and I will give him sooner than later.
I’ll show him how to build upon it.
How to bury deep within it.
How to soak up its nutrients daily.
So when the rains come — and they will.
But when the floods rise — he’ll know he’s going to be alright.
Because his roots extend beyond the storm.
And his Savior has got a firm hold.
How about you? How do you bury your roots in the Word? (And do you know what song I’ve been singing each night?) I’d love to hear.
Thanks for sharing your time with me.
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