And so I begin memorizing.
I print off the cards … I recite the verses to my eldest daughter over our lunch together … she giggles when I make mistakes and corrects me with the “shall” instead of “will.”
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”
Matthew 5:5
And she asks me, “Mommy, what does meek mean anyways?”
I remember, once, years, years, years ago [smile] at our church youth group sitting in a circle on hard plastic orange and brown chairs, twelve or so of my peers and our youth pastor, with his bright red hair on his head and his black leather Bible on his hand, talk about meekness. And he pointed to me – the shy, young 15 year old with long scraggly hair, freckles on her nose, too skinny to be womanly and too old to be a child, and he said “You are an example of meekness, Gillian.”
I never forgot that.
But now, years later, in my human stubborness and my zest for life, am I still meek? Have I forgotten how to be meek? What does it mean anyways? Quiet? Gentle? It feels like I have lost this meekness.
So last night, prodded by daughter’s question, I listened to this sermon so I could have a decent answer for my first born.
And I begin to understand that meekness means to be still.
To wait.
To trust the Lord and quietly find your strength through Him.
To not fret or to be defensive when hurt.
To be still.
Interesting … for months, I have had this printed and sitting beside my coffee maker – where I daily go for my morning jump-start – to remind me to be still. It was put away over Christmas time and just dusted off and set out again.
To be patient.
To wait for God.
The God who knows everything.
And yes, He has His perfect timing ready for me.
Who would’ve thought that the second verse I would commit to memorize would randomly be the exact lesson I needed to reminded of in this very moment? God, that’s who.
And on my dining room table sits a flower … from Leia Hyacinth’s dedication … a beautiful bud waiting … still … waiting to bloom …
This waiting game, this meekness … it’s hard. It’s frustrating. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. And yet, it hasn’t been that long … only a few years … only a little bit of time in the long stretch of history … but yet, it feels awful. And did I mention frustrating?
The late-summer milkweed ‘wishes’ which the girls and I captured and pushed down into an old mason jar keep me company during the long winter of waiting. One fluff-filled jar beside my pillow and another jar in the living room. In the fall, we throw them into the wind and let the breeze carry our wishes into the blue skies … but this year, we kept some.
Our child-like hopes and prayers sit bottled in a vintage glass jar on a shelf. And a new season will come and I will gather the wishes again and pray and hope and dream.
But I will learn to be still while I wait.
I will strive to be meek during this long waiting.
… and life rolls on … and again, by the simple question from my daughter, I am reminded to be meek. To wait quietly for that which I ask of God, even when it feels lonely and desperate.
And then slowly … without much notice or fanfare … there is a tiny break in the painful waiting … a bloom … a glimpse of new life …
there is still waiting to be had but, now, NOW … there is colour in the grey.
And when my eldest daughters asks me if she can spend her $10 gift card on a journal … a journal to write down lists of what she is thankful for … my heart leaps.
And I see the color in the waiting, in the meekness, as she sits crossed legged in the living room listing her eight-year-old thankfulness to God.
I will strive to be still, to leave the strength part of life up to my Heavenly Father, and to trust His timing.
And as I wait, I will learn to be meek all over again.
by Gigi
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