I have always loved to think on God’s role as “the Lifter of my Head” — just hearing those words makes me physically hold my head a little higher, my chest a little prouder.
It’s so easy to walk through life with slumped shoulders and a downward gaze. They don’t call it “the weight of the world on your shoulders” for nothing. It’s been that kind of crazy week. Nothing out of the ordinary or particularly painful, just crazy busy getting back into the swing of getting Christian to school on time, juggling multiple buyers and frustrated sellers, Thom transitioning to a new position at Lowes, laundry that piles up, dishes that don’t wash themselves, a dog with a cold, and now the forecast of snow (which in Fayetteville, NC, means an automatic 2 or more Snow Days to throw a kink in the schedule.) And I’m left feeling badly that I didn’t spend as much time as I’d like with my family this weekend (chin down), and that I only got through 2 loads of laundry today (shoulders slump), and that if this Great Storm of 2011 keeps us inside more than 2 days I’ll be the only person in Fayetteville without enough milk (“humph”).
Then along comes Jesus, and he puts his hand gently under my chin and lifts my head to meet his eyes. “Chin up, Kid.” He kisses my forehead, and I know, right now, no matter what, I am enough.
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Psalms 121:1-2
(P.S. This verse was on a small wooden sign in my Grandma & Grandpa Hardison’s house, so whenever I hear it, I am reminded of them. And that makes me feel better, too.)