Awake

Morning Meditation

Started something new this morning: lectio divina, facilitated by a devotional based on The Message that I recently received.

This morning's reading was Genesis 3:1-10.

What struck me about this passage was that the serpent depicted God to Eve in terms of knowledge—his all-knowingness:

You won't die. God knows that the moment you eat from that tree, you'll see what's really going on. You'll be just like God, knowing everything, ranging all the way from good to evil. (Genesis 3:4-5, The Message)

Focusing on the attainment of such extraordinary knowledge, Eve, and later Adam, tragically cast aside their Garden-fellowship with the Creator and, indeed, do attain knowledge of themselves—but through their own eyes, instead of through the eyes of their loving Creator. Ashamed of their nakedness, they crudely cover themselves and hide.

When God later comes through the Garden, he doesn't make a knowledge-based statement, such as, "I know where you are; you can't hide from me." And isn't that often the question we, in our guilt and paranoia, imagine him to be saying to us? On the contrary, in fact, quite unexpectedly, he asks, "Where are you?"—a question of pursuit, of seeking. It's an invitation to come out of hiding, isn't it? And, indeed, Adam's response is to come out and respond, "I heard you in the garden and I was afraid because I was naked. And I hid."

This morning I reflect on God who seeks me and finds me, even—and especially—in my shame and my guilt, in my paranoia and in my doubt. He is God who finds me in my hiding place and calls out to me—not to boast knowledge of my deeds, good and evil—but to ask in his pursuit of me, "Where are you?" God invites me to walk with him. Am I hiding or following after him?

The Former Youngest Pays Homage to the Current Youngest

This weekend I spent with my nieces Adalie, Kylia, and Zo-Zo. But Maddie Mae was there, too, in song, and in the form of a baby doll (which was later named by the former youngest to the youngest-est's first and middlest given names).

It's true! For, I tell you truthfully, when I came down to breakfast on Monday morning, I overheard Zoie singing a song about how much she missed her bebe cousin, Maddie Mae. (For, you see, they had bonded, previously.)

Which is fitting, you should know, because the former youngest, I believe, was primary inspiration, for the current youngest to be conceived. (Which, of course, I say as the sweetest form of praise.)

Two peas in a pod, with sunglasses donned, they will meet again where the sun DOES shine and the waves gently tumble onto pristine sandy beaches, in the presence of loving family: a joyful reunion and celebration of growing up, togetherness, and, of course, sunshine.

Until they meet again, the former youngest will sing of the current youngest, and the latter will teethe, and learn to crawl, and bend the dog to her will, and entertain her mommy and daddy, and joyfully enter the minds of all who are presently parted with her—but only geographically. For in our minds and in our songs and in our hearts does Maddie Mae enter in and smile gleefully.

Love to Maddie and Zoie, Adalie Grace, and Kylia: the darlingest of nieces.

Happy Tuesday.