Beholding him loved

As I sat on the floor yesterday afternoon picking up the memorabilia that Kate was exploring, I flipped through old cards. Most of them are from my childhood-- from grandparents now dead. In this past year as we have struggled along under financial and emotional stress, I find myself wishing they were alive still. I want to call and ask them, "How did you get through it?" and "What did you do to survive?" or "What will I wish later that I should have done?"

The words of the elderly are always so comforting, even if just from reading old "Happy Birthday" sentiments. It reminded me that I am so loved. If I look from their perspective, my life wouldn't be just about a dirt backyard, an untended tree and my old, broken van. They would be so proud of me. They would see things the way they really stand.

I find myself crying out to God, yesterday afternoon on the floor of my guest room, weeping silently as my daughter slept above me on the bed. Tears came again this morning when I called my only living grandparent, my 80 year old Grandma. I was so discouraged. Not only was my neighbor renovating away, reminding me of how we haven't gotten to anything new in our house in almost three years, but our van needs repairs (again) for the third time in less than four months. Should I let $150 dollars get to me? No, but it does. We have spent an unlikely amount on our cars this year. In my life it IS all about the money, by not having.

I keep coming back to Oswald Chambers quote from My Utmost For His Highest, September 28th, devotional :

"Then Jesus beholding him loved him." (Luke 14:26) The look of Jesus will mean a heart broken for ever from allegiance to any other person or thing. Has Jesus ever looked at you? The look of Jesus transforms and transfixes.

I can be real with God. I can hate every penny we have spent on our van this year and I can cringe that I spent so much time away from my kids to pay for it. But one look from Jesus reminds me. I am loved. Just like the old birthday cards reminded me of how much all those grandparents loved and rejoiced over me, He still does.

I am loved.

I am looked upon.

I am changed.

It is hardest to say "Hallelujah" when it hurts.I am reposting this great link from my friend, Carolyn.