A song of ascents. Of David.
My heart is not proud, O Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.
O Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.
For the ancient Israelite, this Psalm may have brought memories of pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the national feasts three times a year. The Hebrews would have sung this song, along with the other Psalms of Ascent, on their climb up to Jerusalem.
For me, though, whenever I hear or read that Psalm, three memories inevitably arise: Allen quoting it, his favorite Psalm at the time, after missions prayer one Thursday during our courtship or engagement; the behavior of Princess C., the girl I cared for during most of her first year while her mom worked outside the home; and an Amy Carmichael poem which I think I quoted in response to Allen's psalm recitation.
Here is that poem, entitled "Even as a Weaned Child":
And shall I pray Thee change Thy will, my Father,
Until it be according unto mine?
But no, Lord, no, that never shall be; rather,
I pray Thee, blend my human will with Thine.
I pray Thee, hush the hurrying, eager longing;
I pray Thee, soothe the pangs of keen desire;
See in my quiet places wishes thronging;
Forbid them, Lord; purge, though it be with fire.
And work in me to will and do Thy pleasure;
Let all within me, peaceful, reconciled,
Tarry, content my Well-beloved's leisure--
At last, at last, even as a weaned child.
God gave many gifts last week in addition to the opportunity to celebrate the mother He gave, so I would be remiss not to share more thanksgivings with you.
For the surprise visit and cupcake from my sister Mezzo, thank You, Lord.
For the opportunity to record a practice accompaniment track for one of her voice students, thank You, Lord.
For leading me quickly to a metronome app for my Fire when my actual metronome broke, I thank You, Lord.
For Allen's two-wheeled commute three times now, thank You, Lord.
For my Nonni's voice on the phone, thank You, Lord.
For laughter about my leaving a message about our Easter lilies while she was outside photographing hers, thank You, Lord.
For a new morning quiet time arrangement that allows Ebony a bed next to my chair in the kitchen so we're both happier, thank You, Lord.
For uncomfortable conversations, thank You, Lord.
For time to adjust to one more big change, thank You, Lord.
For dinner for two from Central Market, thank You, Lord.
For text messages from vacationing loved ones, thank You, Lord.
For the surprise of half an hour with my youngest sister Supermom and her three boys, thank You, Lord.
For my cleaning helper, thank You, Lord.
For beautiful encouragement on a friend's blog, thank You, Lord.
For answered prayers for youngest nephew's fever to break, thank You, Lord.
For the way You hit it out of the park with the redemption stories You write, thank You, Lord.
For a pharmacist going the extra mile to solve the puzzle of a coupon not working, thank You, Lord.
For an acquaintance at church remembering my name and prayer need weeks after our one prior meeting, thank You, Lord.
For more than two thousand mothers thanked in the 1000 Moms Project, thank You, Lord.
For another cupcake Sunday with tea, thank You, Lord.
For Your gentle prodding to see and forsake idols, especially the approval of man, thank You, Lord.
from the gratitude journal last week, 5862-5941
