Musings for Mother’s Day

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and tonight is getting late. So, this won’t be long, but I’m wanting to get back into writing (and publishing that writing), so I’m determined to post something here before I sleep.

Consider this the slightest glimpse into what my heart thinks of my two little ones right now. It feels truncated, but that is sometimes how musings go in the life of a mom.

Elizabeth Elaine. She’s my near 20-month-old girl, whose precise conversation (mostly not English) and imagination have me utterly delighted with her. She is mine, yet so much not. How am I supposed to mother a first-born? I wonder. Me, a second-born, with my stop-and-smell-the-roses, abstract-thinking bent and weaknesses to rub a ducks-in-a-row girl raw?

“Baby Boy Soukup” is my in uterto second child, and I am very curious about him. About what he’ll look like and what his leanings and mannerisms will be. He has a name I love to use (the rest of the world has to wait to know it), and his hello kicks and stretches are my daily window into his world. His world is about to change, and I can’t wait.

We went to a ballet the other night to watch my sisters dance. The colors and movements were thrilling, but it was a line from one of the songs played that still has my attention. “And though you never know all the steps, you must learn to join the dance; you must learn to join the dance” (from “Through Heaven’s Eyes” from the movie Prince of Egypt).

This is how I feel about motherhood right now. At least, this is how God is pressing me to feel about motherhood right now. I feel pressed to jump in fully, each day, each moment, trusting Him to hold me and to tend my imperfect efforts toward His glory. To believe that He has good mothering works for me to walk in, though I daily fall short of Good. I feel pressed to join the dance, though I’ll surely stumble. To lay hold of freedom by laying hold of Christ by faith. To go to Him. To go to Him as instinctively as I go to Elizabeth in the middle of the night when she cries. But not because I have something to offer Him. To go because I have a need for His presence, because in this relationship I am the daughter and He is the Father who knows and loves me perfectly.

My heart has been turning to God’s words from Isaiah 30:15 over and over this past week. They challenge me in the same way the song lyrics from last night do. “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” May this be increasingly true for me, Lord, in my mothering and everywhere else.

Advertisements

Advent

I wrote this short acrostic poem last night with thoughts freshly stirred by the morning’s first-day-of-Advent worship service. Specifically, I had a melody sounding in my head as I wrote these lines—the tune to which a new Advent hymn has been set by my worship pastor, Matthew Westerholm. The new hymn is called “Tiny Infant, Meek and Holy,” and its tune is that of “Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted.” This tune’s meter and voice guided my poem. Besides this melody, some of the concepts in the poem came from the new hymn, as well as from Pastor Jason’s sermon on Psalm 38 (“darkened eyes” corresponds to Psalm 38:10—”and the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me”).

Advent
by Christina Faye Soukup

Answering dreams where sighs had only
Deadened hope and darkened eyes,
Visits now the infant holy,
Every pure heart’s longed-for prize.
Never fear, my soul, though slowly
The dawn comes, God satisfies.

Happy First Birthday, Elizabeth (A Poem)

You’re ONE today, dear ‘Lizabeth!
9 months plus 12 and here we are,
Looking back in thankfulness
At God’s good gift of life thus far.

I’m thankful that he’s given you
To me and daddy; how we feel
Blessed to get to love and lead
An image-bearer, bright and real.

I’m thankful for your morning smiles,
Your bed-head hair that’s growing long,
Your healthy, hungry morning cries,
Your joy in happy morning song.

I’m thankful for your love of play,
Of books, your lamb, and Captain Blue;
For how your curiosity
Dubs all things worth getting into.

I’m thankful for your heart and mind,
For how you’re growing day by day,
For unseen work that’s done inside
When you choose to trust, obey.

I’m thankful that you know you’re loved;
You know my gentle, safe embrace—
And that, in God’s sweet providence,
You’re growing in a home of grace.

Now, on your birthday it’s my prayer
That God will take your life and mold
Your heart and mind to make you new
Until, next year, you’re two years old.

IMG_3128.JPG

Thank You, Father, for the Old Testament

IMG_20160831_141730

I’ve been recently musing on my growing affection for that 75% of our Bibles we call the “OT.” The more time I spend in the Old Testament, the more I am convinced of its incalculable profit to my soul. The diversity of topics, situations, people, and emotions addressed there offers an expansively wide-scope view of God, his world, and his people; and that view ballasts this blade of grass in the twenty-first century. What’s more, that view includes the cross, the resurrection, and eternal life, for I see, more than ever, Jesus in the Old Testament.

There is still so much of the Old Testament that I do not understand, but one thing is clear—like a message written in huge letters across billboards posted every few miles: God is intent on redeeming a sinful people and making them his own through the strength and righteousness of his own hand so that his people might sing and live in humble, delighted praise of his glorious grace, forever. And, he’s done it—is doing it—through his Son, Jesus Christ.

Thank you, Father, for the Old Testament.

Friendship (NPM #16)

Here’s my last poem for National Poetry Month 2016. While I didn’t make my goal of 30 poems this month, I did set a new personal record with 16. I’m thankful to God for that and for the ability to write at all. Until next year!

Friendship

What is it to be a friend,
One on whom I can depend?
I will tell you what it is,
What I seek of you is this:

Share my laughter in the light,
Share my weeping in the night.
Share my fight for hope until
Hope compels my mind and will.

Gently tell me what you think;
Do not falsely nod and wink.
Sing your heart song, sing it clear—
Not the tune I’d like to hear.

Take sincere delight in me,
Press me toward what I might be.
Love me for Another’s sake,
Love me when your life’s at stake.

Will you be a friend to me?
Love me with a love that’s free?
Would you if you surely knew
I would be a friend to you?

We all long to have a friend,
One on whom we can depend.
And we long to be a friend,
But we fail and oft offend.

There is One who came to be
Best of every friend to me,
And with mercy, patiently,
Works in me His love that’s free.

Come, let’s learn of friendship from
Him who suffered to become
Sympathetic, faithful, meek
To all those who friendship seek.

Confidence (NPM #15)

Confidence
Inspired by Hebrews 10:19–39

Sanctified from insincere
Hearts and base conscience,
With a Priest who casts out fear,
We have confidence—
Confidence because of blood
Cleansing us from stain.

Don’t shrink back into the mud:
Knowledge held in vain—
Knowledge of His sacrifice,
Yet you count it vile;
Deeming it will not suffice,
You live as Gentile.

No, instead, trust Him who saith,
“It is finished”—Christ.
Cast yourself headlong in faith
On the Sacrificed;
Confidence will be sustained
By His promise true.

Draw near boldly; He ordained
Grace to come to you.
His own Spirit, full of grace,
Lives in you to show
That, “The just shall live by faith”
As in grace you grow.

Perfect Storm (NPM #13)

In an effort to catch up and finish National Poetry Month thirty poems strong, I’m planning to write many shorter pieces in the next few days. (FYI, Daniel and I set a minimum of four lines of rhyme per poem at the outset of the month.) We’ll see how it goes! 🙂

Perfect Storm

Wind wailing, rain sounding,
Trees thrashing, thunder pounding;
Heaven brews a perfect storm,
Spilling fury in free-form.

Stained Glass Roses (NPM #11)

Stained Glass Roses

Stained glass roses grace the light
Flowing to my wearied sight—
Wearied by the cruel, mundane
Ubiquity of things profane.

Holding hope out like a shoot
Pressing up from muddy root—
Oh, this light that calls forth life
In the very heart of strife.

Strife in me, for rest eludes
The sanctuary sin intrudes,
But bud and thorn in glass aglow
Tell of where God’s mercies flow.

Pulsing with the Savior’s heart,
Rose-red wounds, trusted, impart
Peace with God, as does the thorn
For my freedom humbly borne.