Skeletons in the Closet

 There is a skeleton in my closet. 

Like an actual skeleton, ya'll! 

I got you for a minute there didn't I? You were waiting for some kind of juicy gossip weren't you?!?!

Nope. Just actual skeletons. That part is true. 

His name is Mr. Eunice. 

It's a long story, but I'm a homeschooling doctor mom. You can fill in the blanks. His name? That's all my kids' doing. I didn't know they even knew Eunice was a name! Why he lives in my closet is again the doing of my son. Apparently this is the only respectable place skeletons can live without terrifying said son. (This may or may not have something to do with an incident when my husband snuck Mr. Eunice under the covers, on the pillow beside said son while he napped. Please don't call DCS!) 

I say all this because it is on my knees upon this closet floor with this skeleton I often have my quiet time. It is here in the early morning hours, surrounded by a skeleton and piles of laundry, God meets me. 

And I'm so thankful. 

He doesn't require ornate sanctuaries or angelic choirs. (Good thing given my house is a disaster 99.9% of the time and even though we do a lot of singing it would likely be classified as a joyful noise.) He is faithful amid the laundry and skeletons. 

Recently I was sitting there in prayer over my daughter. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety about a particular situation regarding my four year old. There wasn't an audible "voice from heaven" but with tears streaming down my face the conversation went somewhat like this: 

    "Bring her to me," it seemed he whispered to my heart. 

    "Oh God, what if you ask me to give her up? I don't think I'm strong enough for that. What if I lose        her?"

    "She's mine. I love her even more than you do. She's safe with me. You're safe with me, daughter."

    "Help me hold her loosely with arms outstretched to you. You've entrusted her to me. Give me wisdom in this particular situation, Lord. What do I do? This anxiety, this fear is not of you." 

    "She's mine." 

    "Yes, she's yours." 

Silence. 

More tears. 

And then a quiet, almost imperceptible, "Ask your husband." 

I questioned if that was my own thought... you know how you do. Or was it His prompting? 

Again, "Just talk to your husband about this". 

And then the tears slowed and a gentle peace settled there in that closet. In my heart. 

Later that morning that's exactly what I did. 

Never mind my husband voiced some of the same concerns which were earlier threatening to overwhelm me. It actually helped me feel a little less crazy! Sharing that burden with him led to a productive conversation and solution. 

I was reminded of a few things that morning. 

1. Marriage is a gift. Parenting together is a gift. We aren't meant to shoulder this alone. God, in his wisdom, reminded me of the leadership my husband offers in our family. And I'm grateful. As hard as it is to give our fears or anxieties a voice, speaking them aloud in a safe relationship is a step in the right direction. 

2. A dear mother, Mrs. Connie, once told me (before any of my four children arrived) that I must learn NOW to hand over to the Lord any anxieties concerning my children. "Learn to do it early," she said. "There will always be something tempting you towards anxiety regarding them, always something you could worry about....give them to Him daily." Mrs. Connie is a wise woman and I think of her words often. 

3.God meets us where we are, dear sisters. Even if it's an emotional mess on a closet floor surrounded by laundry and skeletons. 

He's a Good Father that way. 

Where can I go and meet with God? --Psalm 42:2