“Delight yourself in the Lord…”

“His delight is in the law of the Lord…”

“Delight yourself in the wife of your youth…”

“As a father delights to give good gifts to his children…”

When I think of the word “delight”, a whole list of Bible verses comes to mind.

And each time, the word is a verb—or an adverb.  Delighting is an action.  And sometimes, it’s hard work.

I want to take delight in my children.  I want to delight my husband.  I want to truly delight in God’s Word.

But I’m learning that it doesn’t come naturally.  I need to truly purpose to delight. 

Five-Minute Friday: Delight

It’s hard to be anything but real when we have people over for dinner. 

They might arrive just moments after I’ve finished vacuuming the momentarily neat floor.  But that doesn’t mean it won’t be strewn with toys before they leave.  They see that our children don’t always eat their dinner nicely or politely—or at all.  The rolls might have turned out perfectly but I forgot to salt the soup. 

But they are real friends and we talk late without noticing the time or even thinking about putting up a façade.

It’s harder to be real online. 

No matter how I write, it’s never all of my day or everything about us.  It might be more real to start out every post with a picture of the toys on the floor or the dirty dishes in the sink. It just might not be the most encouraging.

But I remember my purpose in blogging: to open up my fingers to Him as I hone my writing skills, praying to bring a bit of encouragement to someone even as I am convicted by the words I type.

And I know you’ll know I’m real when I break links and misspell words and forget to salt the blog post.

Five-Minute Friday: Real

The dream is always vivid.

Oh no, I’m such a bad friend—I haven’t written or called Merritt in forever!

And it’s always the same.  Except for last night.

I haven’t heard from him in forever.  Should I write or call?  No, that would be assuming too much.  I’ll text Marlys instead and maybe she’ll let me know how he’s doing, too.

(Never mind that none of them had cell phones until after I married into the family, and that even I didn’t text until very recently!)

I feel terrible.  How could we go so long without talking?  How could I lose touch with my best friend?

And then I wake up.  Slowly, I become aware of the deep breathing next to me. 

I’m married to him!  He’s the speed dial I can call any time of day.  We don’t have to write letters or have those hours-long phone conversations: we sit across the table from each other at every meal, we fall asleep next to each other every night.

I turn my head to watch him sleep.  I can’t resist pulling him closer.  And I hug him a bit tighter when he wakes.

Five-Minute Friday: Vivid

In the din of the day, the children, the dishes—sometimes I almost miss it.

His gentle roar.

But then, in the faces of my children, I catch a glimpse of it.

His slightly reproachful face.

And when the quiet hours finally come at the end of the day, I can feel it.

His claws, scratching away the ugly, dragon-like scales.

No, He is not safe.  But He is good.

And so very patient with me.

Five-Minute Friday: Roar