May 26th 2013

Dear Carter,

The longer I'm at this mothering thing the more convinced I become that this job of raising you and your siblings is one for the longest of long hauls. And it is not for the faint of heart or for those desiring instant gratification. A few years ago I felt I heard God whisper to me in a time of worship that my job with you kids was going to be akin to scrambling around gathering up tiny little pearls that you drop here and there as you scatter about through your days. You'll maybe only drop one a year some years, which means so SO many days where I'll see nothing. No fruit, no evidence that anything we're doing or teaching you or praying for are making any difference what so ever. And in those stretches, I am to cling to your pearls. To hold them as evidence that God is at work in your heart and I can trust HIM. So this blog is the place I will try to write down some of those occasional pearls. Mini signs of softening, mini glimpses of the gospel seed, taking root, burrowing down deep in your heart. And I will pray over them fervently until the Lord turns them into a beautiful Oak of Righteousness.

Sunday, May 26th 2013 was one of those days. You, of your own volition. Coaxed by no one, encouraged by no one, wrote down on your Sunday School paper, "I want to receive Jesus.". Your teacher showed it to me, our eyes went wide and then we went on with our morning as normal while I waited for the right time to make mention of it. But as we loaded in the car, you brought it up yourself.

"Mom, did you see what I wrote on my paper today?" you asked. "Show Macy".
I told you I did see and I thought it was amazing, and I asked why you decided to write that.  You responded something very matter of fact like, "Well I hadn't done it yet."  Child, you make me smile.

Later that night I had a chance to talk with you more and your dad did too, we both had pretty enjoyable conversations with you separately. You are a boy of course, so our talks with you are completely different than with your sister; shorter words, less emotions, lots of distractions. But you were happy and engaged and you seemed genuinely aware and settled on your decision. Like you knew it meant something. You said you believed Jesus was real and that He died so you could be friends with God and you wanted that. We talked about your teacher and you told me Mrs. Lemos doesn't believe God is real even though 'You told her He was.' We talked about how not everyone believes or understands that God is real and that He loves them and that's part of our job to show them how much they matter so that they'll know there's a God who they matter to. You told me you were gonna try really hard to show Mrs. Lemos that God is real by the way you treat her and others. My heart soared with your little words. Pearls Carter. Pearls.

Months and months have gone by, but we've had another smattering of pearls dropped the last couple weeks and so I'm recording them here as well.  Last week as we drove home from church you asked me if we could talk like we usually talk at dinner about our highs and lows, but do it now. I was a bit confused (and distracted..lets face it...5 loud kids aren't easy to talk over) :) and trying to figure out what you meant and you were getting antsy trying to find the words. Finally, with a sheepish face you half smiled and I heard these words pour out of you.

"Well, really I guess I just want to tell you that, I just, I dunno, I just really really like church. And I like when we sing the songs, I just feel really good when we sing them, like I love God a lot or something."

Be. Still. My. Heart. I almost wrecked the car. :) I agreed with you, told you I knew what feeling you were talking about and we shared a moment, amidst the crazy chatterings of your 4 siblings, we looked at eachother in the rearview mirror and I swear I watched another tiny little speck of 'hard' fall off your heart.  Since then you have had a couple other "mini's". Offering to pray at dinner, and actually really trying to pray. Asking to help make dinner, offering to do kind things for your brothers and sister. Unexpected snuggles and happy obedience. They're sporadic, they're always surprising and they're most often sandwiched between fits and frustration. But so is LIFE, right?

My first born son. My heart. I'm convinced I'm sitting front and center, watching the slowest of metamorphoses take place in your heart. Watching chunk by chunk of it be transformed and softened.  I'm believing God for it, and I'm cheering you on. I am your captive audience.

Keep it up Lord Jesus. Keep it up.