I Love My People

I Love My People

I sat down to write so many times and every time something has come up.

That’s okay. There’s not a lot going on (just kidding, it’s Christmas Eve).

I am sitting here with a little sick one this evening, she’s been clinging to me all day, and she’s just a doll baby. Right now we’re dealing with croup and lots of coughing and nausea/puking; just the regular (normal) GI stuff we deal with. Sometimes she wants dad when she’s sick, but a lot of the time she wants mama . . . and I’m okay with that.

I have about two minutes before she gets out of the bathroom and runs back in here and jumps on my lap . . . so I want to say how I’m just thinking about how thankful I am for some of the most precious gifts that God has given me.

“I thank my God every time I remember you.” Philippians 1:3

I seriously have the best faith family ever. Ever. I had to miss our Christmas Eve service at church tonight because it was my husband’s turn to go, I went yesterday, and we have been tag-teaming as usual; that’s what you do when your ‘person’ is ill. My tribe made sure that I could watch online (at my request; I didn’t want to miss the service or miss my daughter and her best friend reading scripture during service) and one of my best friend’s sent me a video of my daughter and a picture of our girls together. My heart was full with delight.

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” Psalm 133:1

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:24-25

Then the little one gave me so many emotions that I thought I couldn’t contain them. Just as I’m typing this she stopped me, twice, to ask me if I wanted to smell her feet. Yes. yes, indeed . . . because – children. She makes me laugh.

Her and I always get to hang out since she’s sick lot. While I’m not a very great mom and deep down struggle with frustrations that come with having to deal with the puke and mess all the time, I’m so thankful for our good times. she’s always pulling at all of my heart strings. Like tonight:

She watched the service with me and was so excited to see her “sisters” reading their verses. She sang along to the songs and just when she was about to lose interest she was drawn back in by an emoji on the screen! She was so pleased to see it. She looked at the cross on the screen and told me, “That’s where God died”. I said, “Yes, Jesus died on a cross.” She said no, that’s where God died, but God’s not dead mama, He is NOT!!!” Her face was precious and priceless, the kid has passion. She asked me, “Where is God, mama?” I told her that He’s everywhere. (Forgetting that I was talking to a 4year old . . . don’t worry, she corrected me) She said, “What in the world!? No, mama, God’s not everywhere, God’s in here – He’s in your heart!” (And she place my hand on my chest along with her hand . . . I died )

“Examine yourselves to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you—unless, of course, you fail the test?” 2 Corinthians 13:5

“so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love.” Ephesians 3:17

Don’t worry, she never disappoints, in case you’re wondering if she’s been sweet talking me today – we all know how good she is for my self-esteem. Well I got new glasses (again, for the 2nd time this month, just a cheap pair for reading.) She again came up and told me, “Mommy, you look like a boy, ewww, you do look like a boy!!!” This is the same response she gave me last time. Why!? I just want to love you, and love on you, but then you say stuff . . . like that. So that settles it: Mommy looks like a boy, Posie is a doll, and God’s not dead!


“He is not the God of the dead, but the God of the living.” Mark 12:27

This is the cross at our church that she was seeing on the screen, the one she told me that “God” died on.