Fallen on My Feet.

Yesterday was a great day. I spent it with my daughter Sarah. We rode bikes all day. We went to the downtown library, thrift shops, and sat on the edge of a fountain on the downtown mall eating fresh mangos with lime and chilè. Nice.

When we were in the library, something on one of the shelves caught her eye (it turned out to be a biography of C.S. Lewis) and she squealed (as only she can) and clutched my arm. "Mama!" she said. "Ohmygosh!" And tears sprang to her bright blue eyes. "What is it?" I asked her.

"THELIONTHEWITCHANDTHEWARDROBE!" It all came out like one big word, and she was laughing excitedly. "They're making a movie, Mama!"

And then she was four years old again, telling me how every night she and her sister Aimee would be in their beds, giggling and clutching their stuffed animals, waiting for me to come to them, to read the next chapter of their beloved book. "I loved that, Mama. It was like magic to us. I remember it so well."

After that, riding along on our bikes, Sarie happily following, I remembered too. My mind drifted back to those days. They were hard. Really hard. I was a single mom, working full time and always tired. Nights were busy with laundry and making lunches and getting clothes ready for the next day, and trying to stay strong and brave though there was not enough money, my girls were growing up without a father, and I was living in a spiritual wasteland, longing for the water of life but clueless how to find it. Somehow my daughters still have good, safe, memories of those dark days.

In the first chapter of the book, Peter says, "We've fallen on our feet and no mistake." As for me, I feel as though I've landed on my feet as well, with lots of mistakes. God was with us in that time, and holding us, though I was not living in obedience to Him. I was taking my children through a dark and scary forest, not knowing what was around any turn, but God accompanied us. He spoke to our spirits. He protected us. He honored prayers uttered long before.

God has kept me safe in the arms of His love and grace. And though I know my children will make their own mistakes, I know God will hold them, too. They, like me, will then fall to their knees in their own hearts, on this slow, painful, beautiful, frightening, wondrous journey to healing through Jesus.

In December, my kids and I will sit in a dark theater, eyes wide with wonder as the world of Narnia is huge before us. I will love it. I will remember. I will thank God for placing me on my feet.