Children Are a Blessing

“Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb is a reward.”

—Psalm 127:3

“Children are God’s gifts, a heritage, and a reward; and are to be accounted blessings, and not burdens”—Matthew Henry’s Concise Commentary on This Passage (Biblehub.com)

I’ve been meditating on this verse a lot lately. I have a three year old, and I’ve been needing to meditate on this verse. I’ve come up with my own paraphrase, “Children are a blessing.” And I’ll say it over and over because I need to remind myself of this. Here’s why.

This verse keeps me centered on truth and not how I feel in any given moment. (Did I mention I have a three year old?) Sometimes, I just have to take God’s word for it that children are a blessing because much of the parenting of my personal little one feels like a slog, and I wonder to myself regularly will this stage ever be over?

I derive little pleasure in continuing to "train" my daughter to go potty, something we began over a year ago. And something, quite honestly, she knows how to do!

There is also the fact that about 20 times a day, I need to tell my daughter, “Now, how do you ask nicely?” I do this to try and soften that demanding three-year-old tone to my ears so that I feel like better serving her (I know, very servant-like of me).

And then, there is her turtle-like slowness to obey my wishes, a simple one being, “Honey, please stop being silly for the next minute so I can put your pull-up on after bath.” It’s these silly episodes that make me really feel my age. I wonder if I was at least in my early 30s would I be more patient with her sillies.

I don’t know.

I do know though that it’s in these moments and many others like them that I catch myself before I get too frustrated and speak this truth into my heart and mind: children are a blessing.

I have to sometimes admit to God, okay Lord, I’m just going to have to take your word for it because right now in this challenging moment with my little one, I don’t feel like children are a blessing. It really feels like the opposite of that.

And yet, something changes when that truth sinks into my mind and heart. The parenting cup that was half empty is all of a sudden half full, and I see a glimmer of that truth in her. Oh it may not be in big bursts on par with how she can just come apart over having to wear a long-sleeved shirt “coat” over her purple T-shirt because in her mind it just isn’t right!

What I see are little glimpses of the person God made and then placed in my husband’s and my care. I laugh at her humor (even her sillies!). I share joy in the things she enjoys. I’m in awe of her already adventurous spirit that often asks, “What next mommy?” I love hearing her daddy chuckle at her reasoning when she says something like, “But it will break my brains … what’s my brains again?”

I even love the smile she brings to my face when she says so matter of factly, “Princesses don’t wear jackets.” That is, until she goes outside and realizes it’s too cold and we go back in the house to put on a “princess” coat.

Truth is, I have been having a difficult time dealing with my emotions and feelings since I became a mom. It has not been an easy road for me. I have been wondering what’s wrong with me because I actually do not love being a mom. Parenting is hard and I feel it’s especially hard for me in these early years of my daughter’s life. 

It's because of these feelings that I get trapped in negative, “less-than” thoughts. I feel inefficient, lacking, and somehow deficient. Frankly, I feel out of my depth as a parent. Unfortunately, this not only distorts my own vision of myself but also how I see my daughter.

Thankfully God’s word is always true and always dependable. It contains the windshield wiper fluid and the wipers themselves that clear up my vision. Then, I see more clearly, albeit still very imperfectly, how my child is a blessing from the Lord and not just because God says so.

My sweetie is a blessing. Let me continue to count the ways.

The Girl Who Drew Jesus (Short Story-Fiction)

A short story by Cassandra Benefield

David R. Tribble (on Wikimedia Commons)

THE DAY began with the shade of gray on the sidewalk where the girls took their oversized chalk and began drawing everything that came to their minds.

            “See here. That’s my pa.”

            “He sure has a funny shaped head.”

            And on that same sidewalk a little girl took a tiny square and claimed it as her very own with every color she had. On her slice of the world, there were blues and hues only a Technicolor movie could have made brighter.

            “What are you drawing?”

            “I’m drawing Jesus.”

            “You silly goose, Jesus doesn’t look like that.”

            “How do you know?”

            “I just know.”

            “Well, my Jesus looks like that.”     

            Just then, the little girl who was drawing her very own Jesus packed up her chalk and walked merrily home. She even skipped some.

            One step, two steps, three steps, four. And off she went into her very own door.

            “Hi sweetheart. Did you have fun today?”   

            “Yes, Mommy. I drew Jesus.”

            “Oh. And what did He look like?”

            “He was very colorful.”

            “That’s nice, dear.”

            The little girl put her stuff in the foyer and took off her tennis shoes. It was easy to do, since her laces were on the verge of being untied anyway.

            She pulled her socks up as far as they could go, which happened to be just under her knees. She stood up, wiped the dust off of her pleated skirt and skipped to the kitchen for her afternoon snack. She even hummed a bit.

            “Mommy, what does your Jesus look like?”

            “That’s a good question. I guess He’s the color of fire and of sinless perfection. Of the fullness of time and of endless ages. He’s the color of air and the wings of eagles. He has dove’s eyes and sounds like the voice of many waters.”

            “That sounds pretty.”

            The little girl smiled and swung her feet back and forth under the table. Both feet forward, both feet back. Both feet forward, both feet back. Then, she was done. She took her plate and placed it on the kitchen counter next to the sink, which was just above her head.

            After her snack, she went into the living room and turned on the television.

            “This just in ….”

            The little girl saw on the television people who were angry at each other, yelling and carrying on. Some even had guns.

            “Today in Jerusalem, hundreds have been injured due to a …”

            “Mommy! Mommy!”

            “Yes dear, what is it?”

            “Where is Jerusalem?”

            “It’s in the Middle East. It’s where Jesus walked.”

            “But Mommy, if Jesus was there, why is everybody so mad?”

            “Oh, honey, just because Jesus’ feet touched the same soil as the feet of those that are there now, doesn’t mean there is peace. He told us there would be wars and rumors of wars until His return.”

            “But if He goes there now, surely He will die.”

            “No, dear. The next time He comes, He cannot die. You see, He died the first time He came. He conquered death and has the keys to both hell and death now.”

            “You mean, they can’t kill Him.”

            “That’s right.”

            “I’m so glad.”

            “Do you understand dear, that Jesus died so that we may go live forever in Heaven with Him? All we have to do is believe He is who He said He was. That He was sent from God, His Father, led a perfect life, died on the cross, and rose up from the grave alive, so that we may be saved from our sins.”

            “Sins?”

            “You know all those colors you painted in your sidewalk today?” 

            “Uh huh.”

            “Did you use black?”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Well, black is kind of like our sins, dark, and filled with all our bad things, like lying, hitting, and so on.”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Did you use red?”

            “Yes mommy, I used red.”

            “That’s His blood. That blood was what was shed to cover our ugly sin.”

            “So the red goes over the black?”

            “That’s right. But only, when we choose to believe in Him as our Savior.”

            “Uh huh.”

            “Did you use white?”

            “Oh yes, that’s my favorite. It’s so bright!”

            “Yes, it is. When Jesus’ blood covers our sin, we are a new creature in Him. It’s like He erases the black and puts in its place the color white. And this is our color forever and ever.”

            “Forever and ever ... wow.”

            “And even though we may do bad things still, when we choose to believe in Jesus, He can never take the white away.”

            “I like white.”

            “Me, too. Did you use yellow?”

            “Uh huh, Mommy, I used yellow. It’s like the sun. And it’s like those pretty flowers you have in your garden.”    

            “That’s right. My sunflowers. Let’s just say that yellow represents gold.”

            “Like your wedding ring?”

            “Yes, like my wedding ring. In Heaven there will be streets of gold. And when Jesus saves us when we believe in Him, He forgives our sin making all our blacks white. And then we are now able to go to Heaven and be with Him when we die.”

            “But He has keys to Hell, right Mommy? You didn’t say He has keys to Heaven.”        

            “That’s true. Jesus is like Heaven’s key. He said ‘I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved.’ He’s the One Who knows who can enter and who can’t.”

            “Those with their black not turned white don’t get to come in, right?”

            “Right. Now, did you have any green?”

            “Oh yes Mommy! I had green, and I used it in my picture.”

            “Well, what do you know that’s green?”

            “Umm, trees and leaves and … umm, GRASS! Grass is green, and frogs. Frogs are definitely green, too, Mommy.”

            “Yes, that’s right, dear. But for the moment, let’s just stick with the green grass. When grass dies, it turns brown.”

            “Like our grass?”

            “Yes, dear, like our grass. But if we watered our grass, it would grow very tall and stay green. After Jesus saves us, we need to be well watered by the Bible, in order to stay green and alive.”

            “I have a Bible.”

            “Yes, you do, and when you learn to read a little more, you will be able to grow by reading it. You can also grow by praying and by going to church.”

            “Mommy, I love church! I love to sing. I love to learn those Bible stories. I believe Jesus. I have some blacks that need to be white. I’ve lied before Mommy. I want Him to turn my blacks into pretty white. I want to go to Heaven.”

            “That’s wonderful dear. Let’s ask Jesus together. ‘Dear Jesus.’”

            “Dear Jesus.”

            “Jesus, I believe You are the only way to go to Heaven. I believe You can turn my blacks into beautiful white so I can go to Heaven, too. Thank you Jesus for saving me. Please help me grow. In Jesus name, Amen.”

            The little girl finished the prayer with her mom. Then, she gave her mom the biggest hug ever.       

            “I knew I drew Jesus.”

(Originally written in 2003)

Praise Ye the Lord

“Praise ye the LORD.”—Psalm 150:6b

The last phrase in the entire Book of Psalms is an exhortation to praise the Lord, which is an exhortation in itself as this verse segment ends a book filled not with just spiritual highs, but also many lows. 

I believe further revelation about the idea of praising the Lord can be summed up in Philippians 4:8: “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” I believe God is telling us in this passage that we aren't to focus on the negative, but on the positive all around us. We are to think on the things that are lovely, of a good report, and that are virtuous, to name a few things that verse describes. And when we do think on these things, the end result can only be praise to our Lord.

As I go about my day, I am encouraged to be in constant communion with the Lord in praising His name and thinking on all the good I see in the world around me. For example, I can either concentrate my thoughts on the eczema spot that is developing on my daughter's forehead or I can praise the Lord that she can walk around the house, when so many children cannot. It's not that I shouldn't address the patch of dry skin on my child's forehead, but I must not let the negative aspects of such a condition overshadow all the good I can be thankful to God for about her health. I also shouldn't let it overshadow my hope and trust in God to clear this up somehow, when I bring this issue to Him in prayer. (For the sake of full disclosure, this last sentence convicts me because I haven't prayed for His guidance to either lead me to a product that will bring its healing or His power to heal it without my help!)

Work is a great spiritual testing place as it draws out either our praise or our complaints. I can be under so much pressure at work, with more and more paperwork stacking onto the already massive piles on my desk and start wondering if it will ever end. I can be grumpy that I don't have an assistant who can help me with my tasks as I assist others in my job. Or I can praise the Lord for giving me such a wonderful opportunity to be able to work part-time from home, while my daughter is young, even though I may not get everything done in a manner I would if I went into work every day at full-time hours.

Then, there is the guilt that comes so naturally to mothers. I can choose to be weighed down with guilt about not being able to give my daughter my full and undivided attention throughout the day, or I can praise God that while I'm working at home, she often plays near me and that we are at the very least in each others' presence. I can feel insecure for putting in a long  DVD for her to watch so that I can work at length on time-sensitive projects with little to no interruption. Or I can be grateful that I get to spend quality time with my daughter in the middle of my days by going to story times in the library, going on walks around the neighborhood, or even reading books together and playing tea time with her and her several Sesame Street plush dolls.

My favorite middle-of-the-day activity lately has been visiting a park and walking around with her as she discovers new sights, sounds, and textures. I enjoy listening to my daughter say hi to little girls her age and dogs her size. I savor the look in her eyes as she walks across a field 100x larger than anything she's traveled on with her own two feet before. I love the wonder in her expression as she takes in the largeness of the park fenced in with beautifully tall trees. I love the look of independence on her face as she follows her own path. What a treat that is! I may not get all the work done I thought I needed to complete in a day, but I get to experience my beautiful daughter as she discovers her world. So, what should I say? You got it, praise the Lord!

So, if I start feeling weighed down or guilty about what I'm doing or not doing or how I am or how I am not, I should ask God if there is any sin in what I'm doing. If there is, I need to ask Him to forgive me (1 John 1:9) and to gently correct my walk (Psalm 139: 23-24). If there is no sin, I then need to get my thoughts out of the guilt pit and onto the good that is happening all around me in every moment of every day. It may take some time at first to get my vision on the things God wants me to think about, but I believe with prayer and practice, thinking on the good and all that's mentioned in Philippians 4:8 will eventually become habit.

One final thought. If I am having a hard time thinking on the good right in front of me, that is the good in the temporal or physical realm, I am without excuse because the ultimate praise I have for Him is simply because He is and that I am His child.

So, just as the Book of Psalms ends, let us all be encouraged to redeem our time wisely by seeing something to praise Him for throughout our days on earth. While the natural man is not wired this way, thankfully, praising Him in Heaven will come naturally. Because only then, will we be freed from our sinful bodies and see Him as He is.

Praise ye the Lord!

Our Backyard (Spokane, WA)
March 26, 2014

Search Me, O God

“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”—Psalm 139:23-24

A personalized prayer on Psalm 139:23-24, inspired by a Bible study I'm doing on guilt and motherhood.

Dear Heavenly Father-

Please examine me gently and tenderly, as only You can, and expose areas in my life that harm me and others. When my daughter does something foolish (and sinful—as young as she is) I want to lovingly and gently, yet firmly, guide her out of harm's way. I want to be honest with her, as much as that may upset her, and lead her to actions and attitudes that are correct and that will benefit and not harm her or others.

This is what I ask of You.

I know You are my loving Father and You care for me more than anyone else. I love You. Hold me close, as You gently move me to being a better person, that person You made me to be, as You are my Creator.

Mold me and fashion me, most of all, into Your Image.

With Love,

Cassy

The Fall in Spokane, WA (2013)

Five Minute Friday: She

She, who is my daughter. With her chocolate brown eyes and deep brown curls. With her crinkle nose smiles and her fake whines. With her cuddles in blankets and games of up and down and peek-a-boo. She, who is my daughter, I'm falling in love with everyday. One minute my eyes will be on the computer screen deciphering an email from a co-worker, and the next minute they are resting on my daughter as she plays face down on the carpet in our “office” underneath her blanket—her first fort.

At first, I didn't feel that overwhelming love for her. At first, she felt like an inconvenience, yes one that was wanted, but an inconvenience just the same. But she, who is my daughter, is teaching me what it means to love unconditionally. She, who is my daughter, loves her mommy, and in return, I want to love her as I am meant to. I know this love cannot be without our Divine Savior because only in Him is perfect love. Daily, I take this journey with my daughter, and with our hands intertwined, we will walk toward a more perfect love for one another.

Me and my little girl.
(April 2013)

Five Minute Friday: Red

I know I've written about her before, even on my blog. But her eyes stand out and always will. I can only be in awe of the depth of the look she gave me those years ago, after the “great” flood of Onesti, when my church family went to give a puppet Bible lesson to all the children in her village. She stunned me with her look and behind her was a boy, barely older than her looking off into the distance at just the right moment, when my finger touched the button that set in motion their capture on my camera.

That red sweater. How old was it? Where did it come from? Was it in the dumpster behind one of the many bloc apartment buildings when mom or dad went scavenging for anything of value to keep their family fed? I didn't look that closely, but I imagine it was frayed and filthy, nothing like the beauty of her face … of her innocence.

It was that look in her eyes that captivated me before, and it will always be the look in her eyes that keeps my attention in the years to come. She was beautiful. This little girl. A gypsy. An innocent.

Miora (Conti, Romania)
July 2005