"Mom, when we get home from church, can we go out and dig our hole some more?"
"Sure, dig away."
In my mind, I'm thinking...yes!
Dig, dig, dig! Play, play, play. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
I know all of us parents out there can attest to the fact that when kids have played long, played hard they sleep so much better. Bed time is somewhat enjoyable because they are worn out...tired...ready to rest.
So, today was spent digging, filling, digging some more, creating slides and steps and car seats for baby brother out of dirt.
I stood watching them. Marveling at their creativity.
How a simple patch of dirt that last year was a vegetable grave yard (i do NOT have a green thumb) was now a limitless arena of imagination. How four kids who sometimes fight over the silliest of things were bonded in an instant by creating something grand out of something so simple.
I know I tend to over "metaphorize" things sometimes.
Yes, I think I just made up that word. But, I'm tired and it sounds good to me. Don't hate.
Anyway....As I was thinking of my kiddos digging and creating and playing and the sweet rest that would follow,
I heard, felt, was wooed by that Still Small Voice.
Dig deep, my child, rest well.
Ah...sweet words, sweet promise. Sometimes - really, all the time, I think - the digging, the chipping away at what is, to reveal that which is supposed to be, is hard.
It hurts. Aches. Wounds.
But my Daddy is a gentle excavator. He does not always come in with a backhoe, but more often with a chisel and brush. His desire is not to damage beyond repair, but to fix and fill and create something beautiful and priceless out of something broken and wounded. I love that about Him!
He is encouraging me to dig and find and allow him to reveal the roots to brokenness, to invite Him to show me what needs to be fixed. But in turn, He promises sweet rest, blessed restoration.
Good stuff, all from a day in the dirt!