The earth is full of His glory

"I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty;

    the whole earth is full of his glory.' "

Isaiah 6:1-3

This is the anthem of heaven. Day and night, this is happening. It's beautiful and humbling, and many song writers have included words from this passage in their music. I was singing one of these songs a few days ago, when I sensed a twinge of discord with the idea of the whole earth being full of "His glory."

I thought about the slums in Chicago, orphans dying in Haiti, North Koreans starving to death, women being raped for for sport in the Congo. And it seemed to me that the earth is full of suffering, pain, and death more than "His glory."

In my quiet time this morning, I was hashing this pill of contempt out with God. Instead of planting His heels and defending Himself, it was as if He gently took my face in His big hands and reminded me of just the sliver of His glory I have experienced in my limited lifetime. Things like;

• how a summer night's wind stirs conversation among trees, caressing the evening air with their voices
• the Rocky Mountains in all their splendor (who says the rocks don't cry out in praise?).
• ocean waves' relentless crashing onto the shore, and how something so violent can be so soothing to us.
• the sun and moon never tire of taking their turn in our sky.
• that He has lovingly programmed momma cats and newborn kittens to know what to do at birth.
• crisp moon shadows of craggy trees etched in fresh snow.

I thought about how this beauty, even in all its perfection, is marred. About how Creation is groaning for liberation from its bondage to decay (Romans 8:20). And it occurred to me that His creation is perpetually waving a wand of glory over the earth. But the selfishness and destruction of the human race dulls its roar of grandeur to a whisper-- a steady stream of praise, abuzz with compliments to His mercy, righteousness, sovereignty, and power.

It's not that the earth isn't full of His glory; it's that we're muting it out.

Glad to be where I am

This morning, I was running around vacuuming, sweeping, filling sippie cups, fetching garbage cans from the yard (thanks to last night's storm)-- normal houseworky stuff. In the midst of it all, this angle caught my eye and paused my busy day.

I had set my mop down to check on the banana bread. This particular time, my 2-year-old didn't run off with my mop (to "wash" the windows or toilet or whatever), so it rested beside the stove. And something about this moment made me feel full. It was something of an epiphany for where I have come.

Over 10 years ago, I married Rodney. I had never even browned hamburger. I had no idea how to cook anything other than Easy Mac and Cream of Broccoli Soup and various brands of microwave dinners.

We had the number of our children picked out (as most couples do), but I didn't really want any. I figured that would change some day, but wow, was I not a fan of kids. Truth be told, I'm still not a fan of OTHER PEOPLE's kids much. There's a smack of truth to the phrase "Kids are like farts; you can tolerate your own, but others' are unbearable."

But slowly, my life has morphed, and the nearly-30-year-old-Laura bears little resemblance to the teenager who stepped into her new life in Wisconsin all those years ago.

I don't wake up, scrape the windows on my car, and head to work every morning. I don't go out to eat, almost ever. I don't stay up late or hang out with big groups of friends. Blasting my music and dancing with the cat are a thing of the past. And my calendar never has more than 5 or 6 "blank" dates on it.

No, my days consist of rising early to spend time with my Jesus to give me strength. I lift babies from their beds, bathe them, wrestle with them, dance with them, comfort their "owies," sing to them, snuggle them, chew on them (just a little), and give tons of kisses. Of course I'd be lying if I didn't include the fact that I also yell at them, ignore them, get frustrated with them, and do a lot of apologizing.

With the exception of that beautiful, precious hour in the afternoon called "nap time," my life is not about me anymore. Teenage Laura would not have approved of this plan.

But as I looked around my world this morning, I saw dishes drying, buns rising, clean floors (it's the little things), and happy babies. And it exposed a sense of purpose and belonging and fulfillment.

Today, I loaded up my crib, changing table, and a number of other "baby" things to give away to another mom. My kids are growing up. This chapter of my life will be over sooner than I can possibly fathom. Whether I rush through it or try to hold onto it, I'm grasping at the wind. It will be gone.

I wrote this blog recently about my calling to stay-at-home-momming. I can't imagine ever doing anything else. I have never lived my life this rich, and I don't want to move on. But after today, I won't have a crib in my house-- for the first time in over 6 years. The truth is that I am already moving on. Lord, prepare me for the years to come. Because right now, I don't really like teenagers much :)