THE SANDBOX

God reveals things to me when I’m sleeping.
Perhaps it's the only time he feels that he can get my full attention.

During these what I call, “Sleep Sessions,” the messages are clear. When I awake there is a deep sense of awe that God’s desire to commune with us is so powerful that he speaks to us even when we are not consciously aware of the conversation—

It is 5:45 am on this Monday morning. My eyes are open but my mind is focused not on what I see but what I have just heard—words spoken as a whisper in that realm in-between:
Our job is to remain in the sandbox a little longer to teach each other how to play.

I imagine children in the park and then become one of them as I vividly feel the hurt and resulting anger of being offended by the others. I gather my toys and stomp away, making hateful remarks under my breath and even out loud in an effort to cover up the tears so that the others won’t see what I feel~isolation, betrayal, mistrust. In time I learn that sharing my heart, like bucket or shovel, is risky business and that it is better to avoid the sandbox altogether.

In recent days I watch and read how often we take offense...on the road, in our homes, over something said or misconstrued. In our grown up years we react and behave as if we never really learned how to get along at all. I am struck by how much easier it is, even in my own life, to create grievances instead of extending grace. It’s almost as if we are looking for an excuse to isolate ourselves, one from another.

It’s hard to coax a wounded heart from the protection of offense. Perhaps we are looking for error in another to offer as excuse for remaining distant and detached. It’s as if we are in a constant battle between taking our toys and running home and wanting desperately to belong.

By nature we need each other...to learn to trust, to share, and to say what we feel in a way that creates connection rather than conflict. When my husband and I are arguing and he senses I am shutting down and slipping away he declares, “Hear my heart!” In those three words he is asking me to listen more to what is meant than what is said.
It's not easy to keep my heart open. Today alone I counted six opportunities to take offense and disengage. And then I remembered that my job here on earth is to stay. Body and soul. Head and heart. Let all of me remain to teach myself and others how to play.

This Christmas, extending grace is the greatest gift of all.