THINKING ALLOWED: God as Mother

A child wakes in pitch dark, terrified over a dream. If involves a monster hiding in her bedroom closet. She screams!

The child ’s mother rushes into the bedroom, turns on the light, scoops her child up into her arms and they rock together. She wipes her forehead, wet from fear, and holds her like they're laminated. Then, she whispers the words that a billion mothers have whispered to their children since the beginning of time:

‘'Shhh, it's okay. I'm here.There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll get up in a minute and look in the closet.”

+ + + + + + + + + +

Now imagine yourself as a child startled in the dark, terrified at some dream, scared to death. Same closet, same closet.

Suddenly your Mother rushes into the room. She is the Holy Spirit of God. (All the words in Greek and Hebrew about ''the Holy Spirit of God" are feminine ['pneuma' and 'ruach']. She scoops you up into Her arms and sways back and forth. She wipes away your tears, holds you like the two of you are laminated. She rocks you gently Home. Then, she whispers:

“Shhh, there's nothing to be afraid of. ''I Am'' (here). Everything is going to be alright. Every big and little thing will be well.”

Have you felt God, your Mother, come to you in your fear, and tell you, “Do not be afraid—I will save you. I have called you by name—you are mine.''

I love you tonight, and every night.

kenny

THINKING ALLOWED: God as Mother

A child wakes in pitch dark, terrified over a dream. If involves a monster hiding in her bedroom closet. She screams!

The child ’s mother rushes into the bedroom, turns on the light, scoops her child up into her arms and they rock together. She wipes her forehead, wet from fear, and holds her like they're laminated. Then, she whispers the words that a billion mothers have whispered to their children since the beginning of time:

‘'Shhh, it's okay. I'm here.There's nothing to be afraid of. I'll get up in a minute and look in the closet.”

+ + + + + + + + + +

Now imagine yourself as a child startled in the dark, terrified at some dream, scared to death. Same closet, same monster.

Suddenly your Mother rushes into the room. She is the Holy Spirit of God. (All the words in Greek and Hebrew about ''the Holy Spirit of God" are feminine ['pneuma' and 'ruach']. She scoops you up into Her arms and sways back and forth. She wipes away your tears, holds you like the two of you are laminated. She rocks you gently Home. Then, she whispers:

“Shhh, there's nothing to be afraid of. ''I Am'' (here). Everything is going to be alright. Every big and little thing will be well.”

Have you felt God, your Mother, come to you in your fear, and tell you, “Do not be afraid—I will save you. I have called you by name—you are mine" (Isaiah43.1).

I love you tonight, and every night.

kenny

THINKING ALLOWED: a pure, unscientific miracle over dinner in the desert

Remember the two dinner parties reviewed in the Society section  ''Matthew’s Story of Jesus'' (chapter 14)?

Forget the first one. The one where Herod's hairy-knuckl'd wait staff brought in the final course on a gold platter: John the Baptist's head.

It's the second dinner Party I'm interested in. The one where Jesus served 5,000 men, not counting women and children. The menu was bread and fish. They counted five loaves of bread and two fish.

But somehow it was enough, more than enough. It was a dinner party of joy, welcome, and WHOA! plenty. The whole evening was pure miracle. The underachieving, overwhelmed Twelve couldn't believe their eyes! Because when they counted up what they had on-hand that day 2,000 years ago, they counted:

one,
two,
three,
four,
five loaves of bread, and
one,
two little fish.

But they should've kept counting.

They forgot to count Jesus.

And Jesus means anything is possible.

All that is left is Adoration!

I love you.

kenny

THINKING ALLOWED

The Wreck

I had a wreck a few days ago. A bad one. I am lucky to be alive, since my car isn’t. It was a big, blue, gas-guzzling, steel reinforced “clunker.” But it was my clunker.

My arm, my good arm, was sliced and diced. My head and jaw hurt like I’d been through another series of electro-shock treatments. (Different story for a different day). I shake. My concentration is shot. I am more paranoid than usual. I ache all over. And if that’s not enough, for the next few weeks I am driving a Kia.

I’ll give you the bare facts, then I’m going to bed. I don’t know if I will write tomorrow.

I was on my way to the Mental Health/Mental Retardation (MH/MR) clinic for my monthly “visit” with my psychiatrist and to pick up ‘scripts (7) for another month of meds.

I was driving 30 through a residential area when out of nowhere a white blur going 35 slammed into my driver’s door. I was thrown over the curb, across the lawn and up against the house on the corner. Since I was conscious through it all I assumed I wasn’t hurt. Then, I saw blood running down my arm, onto my shirt, my pants and the passenger seat. Glass, I guess.

The front of her ’98 Lexus folded up like an aluminum can.

The neighbors came running and wouldn’t let me out of my car until the ambulance arrived. They brought me glasses of water and told me hair-raising stories of neck and back injuries, most of which resulted in some form of paralysis.

The police came first. Two cars, three officers. One talked with the woman in the Lexus, one gathered witnesses and the other talked with me.

I thought I was making sense until he told me I wasn’t.

“You’re in shock,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything. We’ll get your statement in the ambulance when you pull yourself together.”

Two ambulances arrived. His and hers. When they removed her from the Lexus they slapped a neck brace and a back brace on her and laid her out on one of those hard, plastic stretchers.

They pulled me out and helped me lie back on a stretcher with wheels. Mine had padding.

The woman asked them to bring her over to me. Regret came pouring out.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t see the stop sign. Forgive me.” She was sobbing. She repeated it three times.

I don’t know her name. All they told me was that she is insured by Allstate.

I’m not, but there is no doubt I was in good hands.

My Mother's Secret

I missed one day of school in junior high and it turned out to be the day I discovered my mother’s secret.

I spent the morning reading the comic books I had borrowed from Benji when I knew I was getting a fever.

I heard the front door open and close around noon. I got up and looked out the kitchen window. My mother was standing on the curb next to the mailbox. The mailman was next door. He had no white truck. The only thing he was driving was his hush puppies.

He reached into his worn-out, over the shoulder leather letter holder and handed her the mail. With her back to the house, she sorted through the letters one-by-one. She looked both ways, tucked a letter in her apron pocket, turned, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, and started up the sidewalk. I beat it for the bedroom.

Three hours later she went to pick up my sister and brother. I went straight for the kitchen. The letter was still there. It was a bill from a fancy department store. The bill was in her name and it wasn’t small. The thing about my dad was that he never allowed charge accounts. He was real strict on that. Everything was cash except for the house and the bills that went with it. Money was tight. I wondered how she would pay it.

I went through the bill. It was clothes for us kids. She knew everyone was wearing corduroy jeans, button-down, half-sleeve shirts and weejuns. They were on the bill; along with two blouses for my sister, and a shirt and jeans for my brother. Nothing for herself.

We would just find the clothes hanging in our closet, or folded in the dresser like they belonged there. Like the Clothes Fairy delivered them.

Maybe she went shopping for herself sometimes, but my guess is she never made it out of the children’s department.

Here's to the moms who went without so we could go in style.