The salvation of a mom is harder for a mother to embody.
You see, tonight my soul is spread seven ways; serving Pizza and beer at a high-end joint downtown.
It’s on a date that’s not a date but might be a date at a later date if it weren’t for all the history of dates that date back to play dates.
It is at an undisclosed party … not answering texts, but at least it got a haircut and never fails to make a friend.
My soul is at the theater, watching a play about souls forbidden to dance… yet they do it anyway. A play I would only enjoy with the real Kevin Bacon. Furthermore, my soul is pretending to read a book about “pwanets” and hopes to “twavle to da moon” someday. My soul is throwing a wall-eyed fit because it wanted the spider-man pajamas… not the batman ones. My soul is drifting to sleep on soft pink sheets with her night-night and lovie – and part of that soul belongs to another soul, a “real” mom with high hopes for a piece of her soul.
It’s easy to say it is well with my soul when my soul is safely seated around my Sunday table for tender pot roast, fluffy potatoes, green beans and apple pie.
But on any given night, under any given moon, my soul is divided.
My identity is in Jesus Christ… and He alone knows the journey the pieces of my soul might wander.
Still, He will not leave me.
He will not forsake me.
And though I might walk through the valley of the shadow of death, at the same time I might walk in hope eternal. One part of me might be shouting hallelujah, while the other begs… “Jesus come quickly.”
One piece of my soul might question the Great I Am, while another star gazes and fully knows, He knows.
As far as the east is from the west my soul might travel and see sights I will never see, joys I may never know, and sorrows I cannot comprehend.
And while my soul is divided, growing, learning, teaching, climbing, falling, breaking, restoring, and healing, my spirit is just fine.
Complete, whole, righteous, adored, prosperous, comforted, and one with He who died for me, while I was still a sinner.
And on any given night, under any given moon, my soul is divided.
It meets new people, tastes exotic tastes, and may make choices that I would not make.
I cannot promise that it is always well with me.
However, my spirit is filled with good things. My spirit, and the Spirit that guides me in all things right, just, and pleasing prays with me in words that are foreign to my understanding and symphony to my bones.
Song and praise unite and send my petitions high – “never leave, never forsake, never abandon these pieces of my soul!”
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And I cry, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, guard and guide, heal and protect!”
Am I saved? Is my soul wholly His?
Only as much as the pieces come to call Him Father, as I picture them seated around a feast for the eternity.
But my spirit?
This mom’s spirit…
Indeed, it is well.
“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed. They were glad when it grew calm, and He guided them to their desire haven.” Psalm 107:28-30
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