TREASURES OF THE HEART

By Kathy Banaszak

http://www.kathybanaszak.blogpost.com/
E-mail: kathybanaszak@wi.r.com

The vision is crisp and vivid. I see the sweet familiar reflection in those misty morning creek waters: Nicholas’ crinkled up little face, those intense blue eyes searching for what lies below, the furrowed brow, that messy blonde mop . The image of his five year old face has indelibly etched itself into the fabric of my young mother’s heart. A treasure all my own.

My five year old son has just invited me into the inner sanctum of his little boy world. We carefully approach the prized hideout. We’ve trekked all the way from our backyard through the farm fields that back up to our subdivision. The farmer has not yet harvested his fields and the ripe corn is way more than knee-high. The cornstalks tower above him as if he were a mere grasshopper, yet this little adventurer has never walked so tall.

As we approach the edge of the field and stand in the clearing, we can see the woods directly ahead. The early morning autumn sky is a radiant crystal blue and the hint of early frost is still in the air. The smell of toasted leaves from the subdivision behind fills our nostrils. The deep purple wildflowers and bunches of goldenrod line the muddied path before us.

“Look Mom, there it is, we’re here! This is it! This is the ‘Secret Creek’!”

We take our time this early October morning. Rebecca and Daniel will be over at Bethany Preschool’s morning session for another two hours. And so for now, it’s just the two of us.

We explore the rock bed, and Nicholas squeals with delight as he chases after the school of teeny minnows that race furiously in every direction with each step we take. He looks for a keepsake to mark his time here today. The leaves are turning with each new autumn day, and a few bright red maples are strewn on the path before us. No, not those…Lots of broken branches and twigs underfoot. Not those either….

“Wait! Look over there Mom!” Feathers stuck to the side of the rock. Perfect. They must be a dead bird’s feathers, he thinks. Maybe a fox got the bird, he wonders aloud. (I think not, but who would ever spoil such a moment?) Dad gets home from his trip tonight. Nicholas brims with excitement, “Dad will love this!” Treasures for a father’s heart.

In the distance I hear the faint buzz, almost like a drill, coming from somewhere beyond the other side of the woods. I tell myself it must be that road crew we saw yesterday afternoon over on Princeton Road, on our way home from preschool. (That old stretch of country road definitely needs the work!)

The buzz is not going away however and has grown increasingly annoying; it’s disturbing our delightful rendezvous. Abruptly the image recedes and is replaced by a starker one. I find myself in a darkened room. The bright red numbers slap me in the face like a bucket of cold water: “5:45 AM”.

I hit the snooze button, letting the precious images wash over me one last time. I remember again that the little boy adventurer is all grown up and moved out into the real world. I remind myself that he’s also probably still asleep in his bed way on the other end of the country. I whisper my gratitude to my God for the man he has become, for the blessing of his life, for letting me be his Mom. And I thank Him that the young man’s heart remains alive to adventure. Give him your adventures to pursue, Lord.

As I close my eyes again, I see Dan’s face and Becky’s.. I look over and see Rog still on his side. Sammy lets out a weary groan, snuggling in even closer. At the foot of the bed, Buster answers with his own sleepy moan.

As I waken this morning, I talk to Him as I do most every other morning. Please watch over Nick and Dan and Becky today, Father. Let them each feel your love and sense your presence all through their day. Please give them your strength and wisdom for the challenges that will come their way. And thank you so much for your promise to go ahead of them and prepare their way. Be their light on that path. Be their rear guard, protect them from all evil. Please keep them (all of us Father) close to your heart, in tune with your own. Help us all to be sensitive to the nudges of your Spirit as we move through this day. And thank you that you always know the beginning from the end, that You are our Beginning and our End.

A sliver of the new day’s sun slowly starts to peek up on the purplish pink horizon, ready to make its brilliant debut. I am reminded again how great is His lovingkindess, how sweet and tender his mercies - new every morning.

My heart overflows with love toward our children even as I release (for today) the memories of those sweet childhood years now past. In these waking moments of this early morning hour, I recall the sheer delight I feel (Rog too) when Dan or Becky or Nick calls out of the blue in the middle of the day, for no reason at all. They simply want to catch up about our lives or laugh about their latest foibles. Sometimes it’s a struggle to share, a burden to unload, a sorrow to release. Other times it’s just to bask in a moment of sweet success. Treasures for a mother and father’s heart.

For the most part, our kids have all now outgrown those college days when many (if not most) of their phone calls would be about needing money for this or that, help in an emergency, etc. Yet I am struck with just how often still I am like that college kid as I come to God with my urgent and needy pleas for His help with my latest emergency. Of course, He listens always. But I know now that He desires so much more for us than me just giving Him my “To Do” list.

I will never forget what my brother Terry shared at Dad’s funeral a few years back. He was remembering how Dad would simply say nothing at all during those final weeks when Terry would come to spend time with Dad over on the Alzheimer’s wing. Daddy would sometimes just look intently at Terry without speaking a word. One day Terry finally asked him, “Why are looking at me Dad?” Dad just smiled back and answered, “I just like to look at your face.” A reply at once profound and shatteringly sweet.

I will never forget that simple truth; a revelation of the Father heart of God. How much more does my Abba Father desire just to see my face turned toward Him? How much more is his love and desire towards me? How much more does He delight in simply my presence?

Mary of Bethany understood this in a way Martha did not. Jesus made it clear that Mary had chosen the better part. She chose simply to delight herself in Jesus, to bask in his presence. How could she not? He was, after all, her treasure. Listen closely: “Where your treasure is, there your heart and thoughts will also be.” (Jesus, Matthew 23)

“I like looking at your face”. Be always my sweetest delight, dear Jesus, the truest treasure of my heart.