Living in Bethel

I'm a slow learner.  But, learning, I am.  After a near Three Mile Island red alert last week that nearly put  me into nuclear exploding (or imploding) mode, I knew something had.to.change.  And so I did. 

I sat down. 

And played. 

I mean really played. I played like I had nothing else to do. I played like it was1999.  No dishes, laundry, errands, emails, raking, dusting, ironing, bed-making. Nope. Nothing. Ignore the mess. I heard it said once that, "Trying to keep your house clean with little kids is like brushing your teeth while eating an Oreo."  So true. 

So, I just sat down and played and tried to breathe in the moment.  Even if it was only for a moment.

The curl of his eyelashes.  The plopping in my lap.  The sweet smell of baby shampoo.  The crashing and banging.  The cries for kisses and justice.  

It was as if time paused. Just for a moment. Air thick with holiness. Even in the ordinary. 

The gift of presence. 

Given to them.

But really, a gift to me.

For as we built these blocks into hospitals and skyscrapers, roads and houses, I realized that this was not child's play at all. 

This was my pillar.  

Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, 'Surely the LORD is in this place--and I did not know it!"  And he was afraid and said, 'How awesome is this place. This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' 

So Jacob took a stone and set it up for a pillar and poured oil on the top of it and called the place, 'Bethel'--the House of God.   

Genesis 28:16-18