Here, is Good.16

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

He wakes me in the early early,
peers over my sleepy shoulder,
says, "Come and sit with Me."

"I'm so tired!" I mumble,
rolling deeper in my slumber.

He waits a moment,
His pause weighing more
than the warmth of my bed.

Then:
"Your body is weary but
your heart is weary more," He says;
"Come and sit,
 

with Me."

Here, is Good.15

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

When your friend feels strongly Led to make a batch of scones, 

specifically because she thinks you'll need one

and she's coming to your house that afternoon,

you nibble because: Delicious.

But when the last child is out the door just 10 minutes before you yourself need to get out the door to go host a talk for that other job you have, and you realize that you have no time to eat dinner?

You eat the scone.

And when the night is over and you're not even craving food?

You reflect on: Your Heavenly Father knows what you need,

before you even need it.

And when you text her to thank her and to tell her,
and she tells you about the song she's been listening to all day,
you listen to it.

And you revel in the Truth He's been showing you
and showing you and helping you see,
and which you are not surprised the song to sing:

"When I taste Your Goodness,
I shall not want."

I shall not want, indeed.

And listen, He's already spoken so many things into your life and into your day, so why did He see the need for this sweetly extra thing?

It's because He's Good.

And listen:
Here, thank you, is Good.

Here, is Good.14

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

When being no longer a grad student,

one can go to a conference and share a hotel room...

with no one.

Here, is Good.13

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

To go to a show with a new dear friend. 

To listen to her heart, to ache with her in her hurt. 

To be amazed at the set design and 

warmed by the faces we know on the stage. 

To laugh at the antics and to smile at sweet dances; 

to cry when the themes run too close to home.

Here, is Good.12

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

To sit in my cozy cave of an office on a piercingly cloudy day,

to do the planning and the emailing and the application reading, 

and to dig into the writing,

like a nerd.

Here, is Good.11

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

When she was little, she was a piece of work.

 Yesterday I sat next to her, and just laughed:
She's learned and matured and grown and aged, but really?

Nothing at all has changed.

Here, is Good.10

[It's winter. Sometimes in winter, one needs to re-instate the series of Here is Good, 

 in order to remind oneself:  Here, [thank you] is Good.]

A few years ago now, I led the worship in the church, and then I sat--as the sermon began--toward the front, over to the left. It was a Mother's Day, and my heart felt strong but tender and sad.

As the sermon moved forward in the quiet of that darkened space, suddenly my friend--who always sat in the back, on the right--appeared at my side, holding her small child. The child leaned over, and hugged me. My friend whispered: She's been bugging me and bugging me to come say hello to you. She wouldn't leave me alone, until I finally said ok.

They left then, but those little arms around my neck stayed with me. Her little insistent arms reminded me: there are children whom I know and love, and whom I am loved by, even if they are not my own. And I thought: What a gift, from this babe. How did she know, that I needed that gesture of her love on this particular day? 

Yesterday, that same child, a few years older now, left me this sweet note, while her sisters played drums with joyful abandon, while I sat at my table and talked with my friend about the mundane things of everyday life.

I thought of the gift it is to watch a child grow, and to see in her the consistent things that make her who she is. This little heart is sensitive and caring, and her eyes see deep heart need. Would I see it in quite the same way, if my own children were thrown into the mix? Would I be so blessed?

I don't know that I would. 

And as I sit in a season of reflecting on all that has been and all that is to come, with tender heart gratitude to the God who knows my name, I just say: I am blessed among women. Thank you.