"Did you notice?", I ask as he rounds the corner into the kitchen.
My boy with the tattoos and earrings, the muscles and scruffy face, my boy who has seen war and death in Afghanistan and now battles a war within himself. How I wish I could say magic words that would heal his heart and mind.
"Yeah, I told Dad how much I appreciated it. I didn't expect you to fill it up. I just thought you'd put 10 bucks in."
He smiles, kisses me on the cheek, and my heart is full.
"I did notice. Thanks Momma."

Oh how I love my boy. I love these little moments of tenderness and connection, when I am able to lavish love on him.

But I was thinking: How many times have I told my friends how thankful I am for my Savior? How many times have I shouted God's faithfulness from the rooftops, telling of his greatness and mercy and love for us? How many times have I expressed my gratefulness, and yet....

How much time do I actually spend telling Him directly? I think it matters to Him. I think it matters to Him more than we know.

It matters because the God of the universe, the God who created my life, the One who is my storyteller - He longs to connect with me. We spend so much time 'doing' and 'saying' that sometimes we forget to just be with Him. Those moments of tenderness and connection - I think He loves those.

And in those moments He speaks words to my heart; magic words.

Grab a quiet moment and close your eyes and listen...


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