Friday, March 11, 2016

Love's lowliest ministry

 

I shout at my children about how messy the house is, and why can’t they help me keep things clean without me always having to tell them to do it. Why do I have to tell them, Do this, do that–why can’t they just see a piece of trash on the floor and pick it up without me having to say, You, go pick up that piece of trash. Etc., etc. Then, today, I wanted to get so much done, and the baby kept crying and wouldn’t stay asleep for five minutes, that by the evening, I was so depressed I gave my family cereal for dinner, and went off to bed with the baby. I only came out here to type this post after she finally went to sleep, after all day of not wanting to! Deep breath. -from "Dear Diary Today I Lost It" (here)

My dear friend Jessica, who is a loving, passionate and delicate mother of 6 little children, is sharing her daily joys and struggles with us through her blog.

Though I have moments when I struggle, I also have times when I feel encouraged as I realize, It’s not all that bad after all! My efforts ARE paying off–maybe in small ways now, hopefully in larger ways later. The thing is to not give up. (here
 
Yes, my friend, your efforts are paying off, with extra hidden blessings coming on its way! We have been so much blessed to have known you and it is our joy to walk this pilgrim journey together. Here is a poem which came into my mind while reading your writings.
 
 



Said one whose yoke
Was that of common folk:
 
Would that I were like Saint Cecilia,
And could invent some goodly instrument
Passing all yet
contrived to worship Thee,
 
And send a love song
singing over land and sea.
 
But when I seem
Almost to touch my dream,
 
I hear a call, persistent
though so small,
The which, if I ignore,
clamors about my door.
 
And bids me run to meet some human need.
Meanwhile, my dream drifts off like
down of thistle seed.
 
A sound of gentle
stillness stirred and said,
"My child, be comforted,
Dear is the offering of melody,
But dearer far--
love's lowliest ministry."
 
-Amy Carmichael, In Any House