Humble heart

I am slow to blog these days. There are stories to tell and lots of little thoughts in the old head, but my words seem to be few. Could be that the only time to write and read is after the rugrats are in the sack, the nightly chores are done, and the husband and I have carved out a minute to say, “Oh hi, I remember you! Wazzup?” And then I collapse. Because the Spirit is willing to blog, but the flesh is sleepy.

My mother says I’m “sleep depraved.” That’s about right. Rhema went for weeks waking every night around 1 or 2 am. Thankfully, the past few days have been better. At the dinner table Brandon thanked the Lord for Rhema sleeping better this week. Then he added, “Oh and Lord if she just heard and understood that, I pray she doesn’t get any ideas.” And, on cue, Rhema snickered.


Not so long ago I arrived early at Rhema’s special needs school and sat in the parking lot. I watched a teacher help a student walk to his waiting bus. The teacher was a young man and I didn’t know his name. The boy had trouble walking to the bus – he flopped, he limped, he resisted, he made gurgling noises in protest. He began to tantrum, but the teacher managed to calmly get him to his seat. The teacher did not see me, but I watched him speak kindly as he buckled his student in. Then he gently wiped the drool away from the boy’s mouth.

I could have cried. Oh, may there always be people in my girls’ lives who are good to them like that when no one’s looking.

A friend asked me what we’d been reading when Rhema started humming Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.

Philippians 2.

“Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

I’ve been chewing on that, wondering what it really means to ‘consider others better’. And how it looks in my life at home, at work, in a smelly Boston subway. I see Jesus, and there are not enough words to describe His glory, washing His disciples’ feet, and stooping and washing me.

And I see the drool wiper upper.


14 thoughts on “Humble heart

  1. Oh I can understand about the blogging- my blog went the way of the dodo because I was too tired, too busy etc. I have less reason than you to be sleep deprived, but I’ve historically had problems with insomnia. Lately, not so much. Yay!
    I hope Rhema continues to sleep well and you get some zzzz too (maybe when Rhema wakes up she can play with my little white fluffy dog who thinks it’s fun to get up in the middle of the night and play too)

  2. Beautiful. I am thinking of you and hope that these next weeks bring more sleep. Your posts may not be as frequent but they are just as powerful. It is a cold rain day where I live and I am catching up on my reading. Your words always bring such poweful insight and peace to me. Thank you.

  3. I worry more and more every day as Jack grows about who the people in his life will be and will they be kind to my sweet, smiling, ever wanting to please little boy. I worry about bullies and impatient cashiers and over crowded integrated classrooms. He is so loved by so many but as he grows older will he still be as loveable without that little cuteness? What new behaviors lie in wait? Will he be shuffled through the system? Who will love him when I am gone? So every night in my prayers, every day in my prayers, I offer it up to God and know he hears my mothers’ heart and pain and anxiety. What else can I do? : )

  4. This makes me think of my uncle, who has Parkinson’s disease. He sits in the room without making a sound, and when he wants to talk, it never makes any sense. So he ends up being ignored most of the time. But I know that even though he can’t express himself the way he wants to, and even though it looks like he can’t comprehend anything, I just know that he’s listening and he knows and understands a lot. I just know that Rhema can hear and understand you, and she certainly understands your love for her. Thanks for sharing!

  5. I know exactly what you mean. I was talking to a friend once about how I was so frustrated and hurt that my friends were not treating my Alex like a real person….and my friend said, “Yes, and who knows…perhaps Jesus comes down in people like Alex. If they knew that Alex’s body held Jesus I bet they would treat him differently.” I never forgot it.

  6. ‘Because the Spirit is willing to blog, but the flesh is sleepy.’


    But here you are. Still sharing your faith.

    I feel you. I have been too tired lately.

    The drool wiper uppers are Jesus in the flesh. Amen. We need Him in them, we need Him in us. Sometimes, we need the visual.

    Love you, Mahi.

  7. I think you meant to write “sleep deprived”… but I couldn’t help dissolving into giggles about the term “sleep depraved”. That’s certainly how I feel a lot of days! lol

  8. Oh, I so get this. All of it. And giving thanks for the ones, like that teacher, who continue to treat our children with such gentle compassion even when no one is watching. Sleep depraved here, too. Love.

  9. We read that same passage at my Church yesterday. It’s not easy to do at all. Not easy, but I’m trying. Thanks for the reminder. Sometimes even when you have the best of intentions, the real world makes you forget. It’s so much easier to get caught up in yourself.

  10. the last shall be first and the first shall be last. My loving husband used to work full-time in a state-run group home for adult autists, and has had a heart for them ever since. Now to see his patience everyday with our own autist is beautiful. Even with others at church or in public, he can often communicate and calm them when other people can’t. Melts me. I am often so far from the true heart of a servant. Much to learn!
    –wife to a drool wiper upper…

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