Month: June 2018

Father’s Day Presence

Posted on by Chel

Some of the many qualities I love about my husband – and that I treasure getting to see in new ways now that he is a father – include his ability to be present and unexpectedly humorous in such a way that the everyday, and even mundane, can be transformed into something special. I remember admiring this quality in him even back when we were merely dating – a specific memory that especially stands out is from a time in college when we were serving in a children’s ministry event overseas. We had been entrusted with babysitting several toddlers; it was toward the end of a busy day, and both toys and energy were running low. I was trying to do the best I could to keep the kids engaged but felt myself quickly running out of ideas and wondering how long was left until parents returned. My ability to be present was surely fading. Then in came my husband (or rather, at that time, boyfriend) – and in what to me seemed a nearly effortless blink of an eye, he was here and there about the room captivating the children with a number of unexpected, whimsical, and humorous interactions. Soon the previously dull and sleepy room was filled with the brightness of joy and connection fostered by laughter and play. And I distinctly remember admiring how he interacted with these children so intentionally, and hoping that I could grow in my ability to both be responsible but also to connect and make room for being more lighthearted and playful.

On Father’s Day I was reminded that – while neither of us are carefree college students anymore – my husband’s ability to be playfully present and my admiration of him being able to do so are still just as true as ever. If anything, I value and respect how he does so even more, as I know it takes intentionality and quiet strength to continue to foster these qualities amidst the very real weight of responsibility that comes with being a father and a husband and an employee and a leader and…the list of the many roles he fills could go on. On Father’s Day, we had both a sweet day filled with small adventures as a family and yet also a tiring day (especially after a much-needed and anticipated afternoon nap was skipped by our over-excited baby, leaving us little time to complete some necessary household tasks). By the time bath-time rolled around, our baby was quite worn out, and so were we. But instead of rushing through the nightly bedtime routine by dividing and conquering, my husband and I decided to join in giving our baby a bath together. My husband likes to use the phone to play bath-time songs for our baby, but as we forgot the phone downstairs, we began to make up our own songs – using Sesame Street’s classic “Rubber Duckie” as an inspiration. We took turns creating silly, nonsensical, spontaneous verses – some of which rhymed and some of which decidedly did not, and some of which were sung in tune and some of which were quite “free-spirited” – and soon found that my husband and I along with our baby were laughing and smiling, joyful and connected in our play even while also going through the motions of bath-time scrubbing and splashing and rinsing and “(pa)jamming”. And what better way to wrap up my husband’s very first Father’s Day than being together, as a little family of three, finding something special and delightful and full of joy in the simple, everyday experience of a bedtime routine? I hope that as our baby grows he will become increasingly intentional, playful, connected, and present in the everyday…just like his daddy.

The Aquarium

Posted on by Chel

This week my baby – and I – had another big day: we went to the aquarium! This marked my baby’s first time at the aquarium, his second time in the city, and my first time taking him on such a large outing without the help of my husband. The idea for this day first came about when, several months ago, a dear friend of mine suggested we take our babies to the aquarium in the summer. The date was so far off, all I could think about was how much I imagined my baby would enjoy the aquarium, how fun it would be to get out in the summertime, and what a sweet way it would be to share time with my friend. But as the day got nearer and nearer, I found that while I was still looking forward to the day, I was also becoming increasingly uncertain about logistics.

With the help of my husband, I attempted to prepare for the day in two ways – practically, and also emotionally. Practical preparations included finding a lightweight stroller and a smaller diaper bag, both of which would be much easier to carry on my own. I find I often enjoy practical preparations, as these seem like something I can “control” or check neatly off my to-do list. I realize that I really cannot prepare for every eventuality, but sometime at least a little bit of practical preparation helps appease that “task-y” part of myself – a part which is learning much greater flexibility by necessity due to the unpredictability of motherhood, but which can also be helpful when in its rightful place. This done, I moved on to the emotional preparations, which were a bit messier and more challenging to quantify, but also very meaningful.

I am finding that I am typically able to be more present and enjoy experiences more when I am careful to assess my expectations beforehand, acknowledge them, and then also remind myself – or let someone else help remind me – what, if anything, may be more realistic or even more important. I can be quite idealistic at times, so this can be challenging for me. Before baby, my husband and I would aspire to experience the “perfect” day – both by doing everything possible to ensure we had a sweet day, but also by trying to insist that we were “happy” the entire day. Even when it was just the two of us, being “happy” the entire day was a tall and, of course, unrealistic order. Thus since, at least in our experience, we never quite had a perfect day, we would sometimes have to not be completely honest about even small disappointments for fear they would shatter the possibility of any happiness or that they might hurt the other person. Over time we began to realize that it is possible to have very dear moments but to also have more challenging moments; slowly we have been finding ways to (imperfectly!) learn to enjoy the sweet moments while leaning in to the painful moments as well. This has been very freeing, and has actually been leading to more joy and happiness as well as to a reduction in our sense of needing to control or force a day to turn out a certain way. I am so thankful we started that work while it was just the two of us, because I am finding this to be especially crucial with a baby: while there are so many moments of smiles and laughter and joy and play and fun, there are also moments of tears and fussing and stress, as well as logistical challenges.

With this background in mind, when I spoke with my husband about my expectations about Aquarium Day, I shared with him my joy and excitement and hopes and also my fears. Over the course of our conversation, I began to realize that what I really hoped for the day was that we would make it through the day safely, that I would following through in taking baby out in spite of the stress, that baby would enjoy seeing the fish even a tiny bit (as hopefully evidenced by at least one smile!), and that I would be present throughout the process of the day.  I expected that amidst this experience there would be some tears and fussing, potentially some messy diapers and difficulty finding ways to feed, much work, large crowds, and perhaps not many fish seen. While acknowledging that there were many unknowns, my husband also encouraged me to be intentional in trying to find ways to be thankful, to have a positive attitude, and to be flexible and present regardless of what circumstances arose. Overall, I found that I wanted to be present with my baby, and with my friend, in whatever adventures would arise.

Thus with diaper bags packed with snacks and hand sanitizer and diapers and wipes and extra clothes and blankets and teethers and pacifiers and other miscellaneous items, strollers tucked away, and expectations clarified – Aquarium Day dawned! With both great excitement and at least a little bit of trepidation, my friend and I tucked our babies in the car, and we were off and away to the city. And…it was such a sweet day, sweet in the truest sense of the word. Yes, there were a few tears and a few moments of stress and chaos, but I found myself overall being present and genuinely connecting with my baby and sharing enjoyment with him. This presence and connection far outweighed any stressors that arose. Mostly, I feel thankful, thankful for my baby, for getting to share the day with him, for his joy, for also being able to connect with my friend and her baby. And thankful that I got to experience all of this at the aquarium.

I have always loved aquariums, and have so many fond memories of visiting aquariums near the various places in which I have lived – when I myself was a child I would sometimes go with my parents and brother and friends, and, when I was older, my husband and I would go on special dates. Each of these visits was precious in its own way, and I think I always enjoyed both looking at the fish and marine life as well as getting to do so with loved ones. But this time, while I still noticed and enjoyed the marine life, they only served as a beautiful background: what I truly loved about the day was watching my baby watch the fish.

The aquarium really was beautiful, and full of such a fascinating array of life. Some of the creatures my baby and I saw included jellies, beluga whales, sea lions, sharks, a sea turtle, manta rays, sea horses, a monkey, a duck, a snake, eels, a lobster, starfish, sea urchins, seagulls, and – of course! – an incredible number of fish of all shapes and sizes and colors. My baby really seemed to love watching the fish swim by, especially those to which he could get close – close in the sense of him being near the glass of the tank, but also close in the sense that the fish themselves also swam close to the glass. He seemed to particularly enjoy those that were colorful and moved in a way that was neither fast nor slow – features that were rather ideal for baby eye tracking and that stood out from their surroundings. He said “huh” to the fish (the sound he often makes when excited), smiled wide at them, laughed at them, furrowed his brow at them. He looked at them with wide eyes and mouth agape. He reached for them, and tried to clap on the glass. He leaned out of my arms to get closer to them. He squeezed me tight in excitement. He watched the light reflecting on the water and on the walls. He also watched the people. My baby seemed to be expressing his delight and wonder and joy and awe with his entire body. And as is often the case, his presence and delight pulled me into the present as I joined with him in soaking up the moment.

My heart is full.

 

The Weight of Love

Posted on by Chel

Our baby recently turned 9 months old, a milestone for which celebration included taking him to the doctor for his 9 month checkup. The first thing the receptionists – all of whom are very friendly and kind – exclaimed upon greeting him was just how much he has grown and changed. And indeed he has. I find our baby to be such a tangible marker of the passage of time; every day, sometimes seemingly in the blink of an eye, he is growing and changing and becoming in new ways. Our very first time in the doctor’s office, back when fall was only beginning to be in the air, was when our baby was just 4 days old. This was our first time taking him out of the house since he came home from the hospital, and even getting out the door was such an exciting a novel process that called for a picture as well as for the help of many hands. My husband and I remember being deeply in love already with our dear baby, but we also remember feeling somewhat delirious in our sleep deprived state – a deliriousness that I remember felt as though I was underwater, and as though all sensory information was being distorted through said water before it reached me, and as though in order to respond my thoughts and words floated surreally back through said water before (hopefully) reaching their intended destination in the ears of those whom were attempting to have conversations with me. Yet even then, my husband and I distinctly remember seeing a 4-month-old come in for her appointment as we were sitting in the waiting room with our tiny baby – who was tucked cozily in his infant carseat, deep asleep. As we watched how this “big” baby was able to hold her head up and look around as her father carried her against his chest, we marveled at how grown up she looked. Yet today, I am sure if we would have seen this same 4-month-old, she is the one who would have looked tiny. What a difference perspective makes!

Our doctor’s office has multiple patient rooms, but it just so happens that for his 9 month appointment we were assigned the same room we had on our baby’s very first visit. Being in this room, and at the milestone of 9 months, led us to reflect a bit on what life was like then and how much not only our baby but our whole family has changed since the first time we were in that particular room. We have such mixed emotions as we think back to that first visit; we loved our baby so much were so excited, but we were also very worried – our baby was having difficulty nursing, was losing weight, and was jaundiced. While I realize these are small problems when compared to the other innumerable health problems that can arise for babies, we felt terrified that something terrible was going to happen to our baby and I distinctly remember dissolving into tears of love and fear and uncertainty. Our little baby just seemed so vulnerable, and the weight of parenting him felt like such a large responsibility for which my husband and I were grossly unqualified. I think at this time I was just beginning to realize what it is like to love a baby so much, how exhilarating and powerful and joyful this experience is, and yet how heart-wrenching and vulnerable and uncertain. At our baby’s 9 month appointment, my husband and I were able to notice how many things have changed since our baby’s first appointment – how much he has grown in every sense of the word, how much more settled we now feel in our roles as parents, how we can hardly even imagine what life was like before he was a member of our family. Yet while many things have changed, others are still the same – how much we love our baby, how heavy the weight of loving and parenting him feels, how much we want him to be well but are terrified to realize we cannot guarantee his eternal wellness or safety.

Once we had returned back home, I began to cry while nursing our baby, and for a few moments it was as though I could hardly breathe. I was crying because of how much I love him, how dear he is to me, how unspeakably grateful I am that my husband and I get to share our lives with him, how terrified I am of anything ever happening to him. I was crying because of this weight of love. To be honest, I actually often cry when I think of just how much I love our baby and how I want him to always be with me. I believe that children are a blessing from the LORD, and that ultimately they belong to him. This means that “my” baby is not really “my” baby at all, but rather is on loan to me and my husband from the LORD, for however long or short the LORD blesses us with the incredible gift of having our baby with us. I want to hold so tightly to my baby, and yet truly I know it is far better for the LORD to be the one who is ultimately holding him. This is so painful for me, and such a daily, moment by moment struggle, as it is all too easy for me to be overcome by fear. It is so hard for me to love my baby with reckless abandon, with all of me, and to do all I can – alongside my husband – to love and parent and disciple and protect him to the very best of my finite abilities…and then, to recognize at the end of the day (or even throughout each day) the very best thing I can do while loving my baby in the aforementioned ways is to hold him loosely in hands that are open to the LORD and that trust in his sovereignty. But if this is so hard for me now, when my baby is well, how much harder will it be when the inevitable suffering and hardship that life on this earth entails comes? I am overwhelmed even thinking about this, but I have to hope and trust that God will give me the grace I need moment by moment to love faithfully in each season of life, even if I cannot imagine that now.

I wonder if considering several passages of Scripture, all of which have been impactful for me, may here be relevant:

Matthew 6:25-34 New International Version (NIV)

Do Not Worry

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

As much as I would like to think that I can add innumerable hours to my baby’s life – or the lives of anyone I love – doing so is not in my control, especially not through worrying. In contrast, this passage makes it painfully clear that I should instead be trusting in who God is and devoting myself to seeking first his kingdom. Which, in this stage of life, I imagine may at least partially look like loving my baby well in the present, that I might be a small reflection of the love that God shows his own children and that I might point my own baby toward, I dearly hope, someday trusting in Jesus for himself. For it is in Jesus alone that we can have true eternal life. I hope that someday I can truly echo Paul in believing “to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21), for death for those who trust in Jesus will mean “depart[ing] and being with Christ, which is better by far” (Philippians 1:23). I still feel tearful when I think of how ultimately we all will die, be it today or in 100 years, but I hope that I will be able to grow in my faith in the unfailing hope that is in Jesus. This is so very hard though, which is why, as our family’s pastor so wisely says, we need to “daily rehearse the gospel” – including through letting other fellow believers speak into our lives, and through our own individual seeking of the LORD through prayer and reading of his Word. How I need to rehearse the gospel, for my heart is so prone to worry and fear, especially as related to those I love most dearly.

Before I close, I feel it may be helpful for me to meditate on Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians (3:14-21), which, as a side note, is actually the same passage that my husband and I prayed over our baby when he was dedicated at our church this past Mother’s Day. I love this passage for many reasons, including its expression of God’s Trinitarian nature, its description of the very real weight of love, its reminder of God’s character of love and power, its celebration of the fullness that comes through relationship with Jesus – both in this present life and eternally.

Ephesians 3:14-21 New International Version (NIV)

Prayer for the Ephesians

14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

If my husband and I are praying that our baby will ultimately be able to trust in Jesus and have him “dwell in [his] heart through faith” (which we fervently are), we would do well to pray that God would help us both as parents to live lives that reflect to our baby what it looks like to be rooted and established in Jesus. How I need the Holy Spirit’s help as I seek to trust the LORD not only with my life, but with the lives of those I hold most dear.

The Nursery

Posted on by Chel

This Sunday was a momentous occasion in that it marked the very first time we left our baby in the church nursery. This day has been a very long time in coming, as my husband and I have talked about the importance of putting our baby in the nursery for months – we want him to be able to socialize with other adults and children, we want to encourage and foster his seemingly friendly and outgoing personality, we do not want our own anxieties to hold him back, we want him to feel he can enjoy being with us but that he also can enjoy being apart from us (being securely enough attached that he can also trust we will return). We want him to be a part of a larger community, and not to feel as though he needs to hide from the world. And my husband and I also realize it is important for us to have time as adults as well, including time to focus un-interrupted on the sermon and to speak with other adults. Yet fine though all these reasons may be in theory, acting upon them has been painfully challenging for me. I first asked my husband if we could wait until March when our baby would be 6 months old. When March came, I reasoned that as it was still flu season – and a particularly bad one, at that – perhaps we ought to wait until May; my husband patiently agreed with the caveat that we indeed follow through soon. But then May came, along with a variety of other excuses I manufactured – on Mother’s Day I wanted to keep baby with me, the following week family was coming and we surely didn’t want him to get sick, Memorial Day Weekend was a holiday. The first weekend of June slipped quietly by with an all-church service in the park that left me breathing a sigh of relief as childcare was not even an option. But then, before I knew it, this second weekend of June arrived and I was nearly out of excuses.

I must confess that on Saturday night, I purposefully did not confirm with my husband that we were indeed going to finally put our baby in the nursery, and I also did not pack baby’s diaper bag or plan any other practical details. I did not even set an alarm for this Sunday morning; I told my husband that surely our baby would serve as our alarm clock – he usually is ready to say hello to the world between 5 and 7am every morning – although I secretly hoped that baby would somehow happen to oversleep. In sum, I was being avoidant and feeling very ambivalent. This Sunday morning, during breakfast – a mere 20 minutes before we needed to leave for church – I carefully asked my husband what we were going to do with our baby during service. My husband lovingly but also firmly reminded me that today was the day that we were going to introduce him to nursery! I suppose in my heart I already knew what my husband would say, as we had previously discussed this tentatively earlier in the week, but I am not proud to say that I began to find a surprising number of ways to stall as well as to fabricate more excuses as to why today should not yet be nursery day.

Stalling included carefully unpacking, then repacking, baby’s diaper bag, slooooowly choosing an outfit and dressing baby, checking his diaper just one more time, gathering and packing an unprecedented number of teethers, filling a water bottle for him even though he had just finished breakfast and nursing, looking for a bib that matched his outfit…the list could go on. Excuses – which I worked to make not only the majority of the time that we were still at home getting ready but also during most of the car drive to church – included wondering if this is truly the best time to leave our baby (as he is still in the “stranger danger” developmental phase), worrying that he will cry too much and get too sad and stressed, fearing that he will catch a bug and get sick, noting there is no “real” reason to choose to put him in the nursery over the summer as he does relatively well and I like having him close as well as worshipping with him, wondering if fall would be a better time to start…this list could also go on. The excuses I raised were all real concerns that I have, but – as my husband loving and graciously pointed out while also patiently hearing and validating me – when will I truly ever find the “right” time to put baby in the nursery, a time when I do not feel any worry or concern? Or, for that matter, when will I ever truly feel ready to do anything else that involves letting baby go? While to some extent it is appropriate for me to “baby” our baby – as he is still literally more or less a baby – I need to also support his growth and development in healthy ways, which will often likely entail lovingly equipping him and then giving him opportunities to venture out in the world in ways both small and big.

But to do this, I so desperately need the support of my husband, because I want to just hold my baby so tightly and never let go. Which is why even though it was painfully hard for me, I am so thankful that my husband was so patient and gentle and loving with me but that he also firmly followed through with taking our baby to the nursery as we had planned. My husband reassured me that we needed to at least show up, and that even 5 minutes would be a success. But once we took baby down to the nursery – 17 minutes late, due to all my stalling – the ladies in the nursery exuded a kind, caring, competent, loving confidence that inspired at least a little bit of confidence and trust in my husband and me and also, I think, our baby. Almost before I knew it, I found myself telling my baby I love him while my husband passed him off to one of the grandmothers in the nursery, and as baby started looking at the mobiles I was walking down the hallway with my husband, and up the stairs, and into the sanctuary. I started to tear up as soon as we walked away, and missed baby right away, and anxiously kept an eye on the small screen at the front of the church that is dedicated to paging parents when their respective babies or children need them. I also carefully kept checking my phone, noting with amazement that 10 minutes had gone by, then 20 minutes, then 45 minutes…and due to our tardy arrival, it was then time to go back down to get our baby.

I flew down the stairs, and upon arriving in the nursery area and surrounding hallways, I found…our baby was fine! And so was I, and so was my husband. In fact, I think we were all more than fine. The ladies in the nursery reported that while baby had experienced some moments of crying, they walked him in the hallways and even let him sit in the kindergarten room to watch the bigger children. Our baby’s little rosy cheeks were even dry when my husband and I came to get him, and as soon as I gathered him into my arms and squeezed him close, he smiled not only at me and my husband but also at the ladies in the nursery. I loved seeing how he could enjoy being with other people, and I also greatly appreciated how the ladies were so kind and treated our baby like his own dear little person.

As we went with our baby back to the car, I think we all felt particularly happy and close and proud and relieved and thankful. I know that having been away from my baby for even such a short time, I was especially delighted to be reunited with him again, as was my husband. And our baby seemed especially happy to be with us too, and was particularly smiley and laughy when riding in his carseat. And his jovial mood continued while adventuring with us at the outdoor mall for a sweet Sunday afternoon outing that also included a shared – between my husband and me – banana peanut butter chocolate donut and a cold brew coffee – our very first. While taking our baby to the nursery was a hard step to take, and, I am sure, will still be in the future, overall I am left feeling so thankful – thankful for my husband and how he was so gentle yet firm, and so strong when I most needed him; thankful for our dear baby; thankful for the loving nursery workers; thankful that my husband and I were able to share a few moments in service where he was able to put his arm around me like he did before our baby; thankful that we could then all be back together again and sharing the rest of the day; thankful that we can all be growing together, each in our own ways.

Clogged

Posted on by Chel

I recently experienced my first clogged milk duct. While I initially had a great number of difficulties with breastfeeding when my baby was a newborn, a clogged duct was not one of them. Thus having a clogged duct now, after so many uneventful months of established nursing, came as a bit of a painful and unexpected surprise in at least two ways – in that I was experiencing a clogged duct at all, and that I responded so poorly to this seemingly minor difficulty. That I was not expecting a clogged duct seems rather self-explanatory, but I feel my response to said clogged duct warrants further reflection.

I feel as though my response to having a clogged duct revealed that I have many spiritual “clogs”, or areas of sin in my life. But unlike a physical clogged milk duct, which is suddenly and painfully obvious, my spiritual “clogs” are much more insidious and may only become evident during moments of duress. As my husband can attest, my responses to the even small upset of having a clogged milk duct included feeling sorry for myself, attempting to control the situation by researching and trying various treatments, becoming angry when said treatments did not immediately work, thinking I “deserved” to get better because I was trying to be responsible in addressing the issue, even blame shifting when my baby did not immediately accommodate to the dangle feeding nursing position that many others had recommended as the best remedy. My husband lovingly pointed out to me that he was rather afraid to be around me that evening after baby went to bed, as I was so obviously irritable and he was uncertain as to what might set me off next. I feel it is worth noting he was not saying that I could not be unhappy or angry, but rather that he found it problematic how I was taking my sadness and anger out on others. I realize that in the scheme of life, a clogged milk duct is a very insignificant issue, which makes how quickly it revealed my sin all the more humbling and sobering.

For those of you who appreciate resolution, know that my clogged milk duct resolved rather suddenly and non-glamorously as I finally managed to coax my screaming baby into the dangling nursing position with his chin pointing towards the offending duct. But I’m afraid there is as of yet no true resolution to my “clog” of sin issues; while I am being much more loving and present and cheerful and kind and patient for the time being, it is relatively easy to act in these ways when nothing particularly stressful or challenging is occurring. I find it troubling that I can spend so much time researching and fretting over and attempting to treat and caring for a minor physical difficulty such as a clogged milk duct, but that I so often fail to be so devoted to “treating” my innumerable – and far more serious – ongoing spiritual “clogs”. I realize I cannot truly “treat” my spiritual self; it is only by the undeserved work of Christ’s atoning work on the cross that I can have confidence of someday being fully healed and restored in the fullest sense of these words; how I need his ongoing grace and the working of the Holy Spirit in my life to sustain me day by day on the ongoing process of progressive sanctification and growth. But I think often I do not take enough responsibility for seeking to “walk by the Spirit” (Galatians 5:16) or to “work out [my] salvation” (Philippians 2:12), something especially saddening when I think about how my “clogs” of sin affect not only me but those around me, including my baby and my husband. Not because these works are salvific or because they are a “cure” that I can bring about for myself, but because if I truly am in relationship with Jesus he will have an impact on how strive to live my day to day life.

Thus while I am thankful my clogged milk duct issue is currently resolved, I am even more grateful for how this is serving as an opportunity to make more apparent my unresolved “clogs” of sin; in this I am again convicted of my need for Jesus and the restoration I look forward to one day when he returns. Until then, by his grace I will try to be an active participant in my own ongoing sanctification, seeking after the LORD as intentionally as possible by reading the Bible regularly, praying, being a part of a community of fellow believers, and seeking to live in obedience to his ways. I know I will often fall short, but I am thankful for the grace I receive from the LORD and from others to continue on, and not just for myself, but also because I want to love others – including my husband and my baby – well.

Small Presence

Posted on by Chel

My husband and I are finding that our baby’s physically small presence significantly – and disproportionately! – impacts our own desire to be present and to connect in everyday moments. Our baby is so naturally and unassumingly present and mindful, connected to others and to the world around him. When he looks at something or someone, he truly sees them; his eyes light up, he carefully studies them, if possible he uses additional senses – such as touch or taste – to learn more about them. He typically also responds with the demonstration of his own emotional experience – such as smiles or laughter or tears or vocalizations or physical movements. He devotes the same presence and attention to studying (what I would label) “exciting” new people or places on family outings as he does to observing everyday faces or toys or Cheerios on his highchair tray or our dog or leaves outside the window or pictures in a book he has already read…the list could go on and on.

As my husband and I share our days with our baby, we find great joy in learning to see the world through our baby’s eyes. Before baby, my husband and I thought of days in which we could truly be present and connect as days free of responsibility, days when we could go on dates to the city or dates out of town or dates to any number of our favorite local places. We often thought of work days as days in which we needed to focus on accomplishing what we had set out to accomplish, which often entailed rushing through certain tasks and trying to find the most efficient ways in which to do things. But slowly we are realizing that any day – in fact, right now! – is a beautiful time to truly live. As our baby is showing us, there are so many things, both big and small, in which to be present even in the everyday.

Thus my husband and I are trying to encourage one another to foster hearts of presence and gratitude while also still being faithful in our responsibilities. This is of course challenging and messy at times, as we often find parenthood and work and adult life responsibilities to be heavy and stressful. But we are trying and, I hope, growing. Practicing often looks like just sharing seemingly small moments with our baby or with one another, moments such as pushing our baby around the block on the little Radio Flyer tricycle his grandpa got him, or going to the bookstore together and looking at books and toys, or eating breakfast together, or watching baby splash in the bathtub, or playing peek-a-boo, or dancing goofily to music, or just playing on the living room floor, or soaking up baby’s newly toothy smile, or rocking baby, or kissing baby, or laughing with him. Practice looks like my husband and I trying to actually see and talk to and listen to and hopefully even laugh with one another even when we are both exhausted from a full day. Practice looks like feeling and sharing emotions honestly, large and small, from joy and excitement to sadness or fear. Each of these moments may seem small and simple, but my husband and I find that they are actually exceedingly precious and bring such a deep sense of connection as we get to share them together.

Moments such as these make me think that presence and connection are deeply linked: being mindful and aware of the world around me opens me up more deeply to connection with others, for as I both physically and emotionally show up, I can actually truly see those around me. And when two or more people are truly in the same place, genuine relationship and knowing can occur. My dear, sweet baby is naturally so genuine and open as he pursues both presence and connection, as is developmentally appropriate, but as an adult I am aware I have plenty of barriers – life responsibilities and pressures, anxiety, fear of vulnerability, past hurts; the list could go on. In spite of the challenges, I hope and pray that even the small moments in which I am able to be present and connected, strung together day by day, will grow in length and significance.

When I am with my baby, I want to truly be with him, not just sharing the same space. And the same is true of how I want to be with my husband, or my other family members, or my friends, or my clients, or with Jesus.

Family Adventures in Amateur Birding, Nature, and Worship

Posted on by Chel

We recently started birding as a family, and toward this end purchased the “Peterson Field Guide to Birds” and some binoculars. My husband and I were discussing ideas about new hobbies we could try to develop as a family that would foster connection as well as learning and curiosity. Birding – very amateurly – was an idea my husband and I both found we were excited about, and which we also hope our little baby will find it to be fun as he grows bigger. It also meets various interests that both of us have, including sharing time together, collecting, and generally observing the world around us, to name a few. As we are not too serious in our birding ambitions, we also enjoy the idea of talking as we walk, generally sharing enjoyment, and learning, as well as practicing the art of being present and mindful.

This past weekend we went out as a little family to a local forest preserve, and were delighted that in our short, baby-attention-span-length hike we glimpsed a number of feathered friends. My husband and I were both struck by how, when we are present and actually looking, the world is full of wonder that we may otherwise miss or take for granted. One especially wonderful moment was when a red-tailed hawk unexpectedly swooped across the trail a mere 10 feet or so away from us; it was so much larger and regal and complex and sleek than we ever realized when observing hawks either from afar or in captivity as had been the case in our previous encounters.

We also spied – and hopefully identified? – several other types of birds. It is hard to say what was most enjoyable out of this process – noticing and hearing birds, using the binoculars and trying to focus them before a bird flitted away, trying to remember notable features to reference as we quickly thumbed through our bird guide, logging what we thought we found, or just generally enjoying one another, nature, and laughter.

As we meandered about with eyes that were actually looking, my husband and I started to reflect a bit on the wonder and mystery of the world. It was one of those summer mornings that was warm but not hot, and surrounded with the sounds, sights, and smell of vibrant life that only a midwestern summer can hold – green trees thick with leaves and trailed by vines arching alongside and even above the gravel trail, various colors and textures of grasses gently swaying and rustling, light and darkness playing hide and seek among the breeze blown leaves of the tree groves, splashes of blue and yellow and purple and white flowers breaking up the shades of green, the sticky humidity making even the air feel alive and weighty, the hum of various bugs, the songs and calls of yet (to us) un-identified birds.

I find opening my eyes to the physical world also seems to encourage my soul to be more reflective and mindful. Being in nature leaves me feeling appreciative and awe-struck by its beauty and complexity, yet I sense my own finitude as I notice the mystery, wildness, and even danger of the forest and all that may be found within it. For all of humankind’s intelligence, ingenuity, and propensity to organize and control, even a small patch of nature reminds me that I myself am so small and my ability to control and to know is so limited. Which makes me think about how creation points to its Creator – imperfectly of course, especially in a world marked by the effects of the Fall – and yet in such a tangible way. God is unfathomably beautiful, good, loving, and faithful, yet he also is glorious, omnipotent, and righteous such that apart from the grace offered us in Christ his very perfection and holiness would leave us all, including me, undone. If even the greatness of a tiny corner of God’s creation humbles me, how great is God himself? One of my favorite psalms, which I think beautifully expresses God’s sovereignty over creation as well as how creation points to his glory and moves us to worship, is Psalm 104. Notice that even birds are mentioned, which seems especially apropos for a post that begins with birding!

Psalm 104 New International Version (NIV)

1 Praise the LORD, my soul.
LORD my God, you are very great;
you are clothed with splendor and majesty.

2 The LORD wraps himself in light as with a garment;
he stretches out the heavens like a tent
3 and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.
He makes the clouds his chariot
and rides on the wings of the wind.
4 He makes winds his messengers,
flames of fire his servants.

5 He set the earth on its foundations;
it can never be moved.
6 You covered it with the watery depths as with a garment;
the waters stood above the mountains.
7 But at your rebuke the waters fled,
at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;
8 they flowed over the mountains,
they went down into the valleys,
to the place you assigned for them.
9 You set a boundary they cannot cross;
never again will they cover the earth.

10 He makes springs pour water into the ravines;
it flows between the mountains.
11 They give water to all the beasts of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
12 The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.
13 He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
14 He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to cultivate—
bringing forth food from the earth:
15 wine that gladdens human hearts,
oil to make their faces shine,
and bread that sustains their hearts.
16 The trees of the LORD are well watered,
the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.
17 There the birds make their nests;
the stork has its home in the junipers.
18 The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
the crags are a refuge for the hyrax.

19 He made the moon to mark the seasons,
and the sun knows when to go down.
20 You bring darkness, it becomes night,
and all the beasts of the forest prowl.
21 The lions roar for their prey
and seek their food from God.
22 The sun rises, and they steal away;
they return and lie down in their dens.
23 Then people go out to their work,
to their labor until evening.

24 How many are your works, LORD!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.
25 There is the sea, vast and spacious,
teeming with creatures beyond number—
living things both large and small.
26 There the ships go to and fro,
and Leviathan, which you formed to frolic there.

27 All creatures look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
28 When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
they are satisfied with good things.
29 When you hide your face,
they are terrified;
when you take away their breath,
they die and return to the dust.
30 When you send your Spirit,
they are created,
and you renew the face of the ground.

31 May the glory of the LORD endure forever;
may the LORD rejoice in his works—
32 he who looks at the earth, and it trembles,
who touches the mountains, and they smoke.

33 I will sing to the LORD all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
34 May my meditation be pleasing to him,
as I rejoice in the LORD…

35b Praise the LORD, my soul.
Praise the LORD.

I join the psalmist in saying “Praise the LORD, my soul. LORD my God, you are very great; you are clothed with splendor and majesty.” Yes, praise the LORD, oh my soul. Praise the LORD.

Motherhood – I’m Finding Myself Indelibly Changed

Posted on by Chel

I have been finding motherhood to be an experience that defies the capture of words, although I have spent a significant amount of time “tracking” this experience since I became a mother nearly a year ago. That being said, here are some of my feeble attempts to express the essence of motherhood that I have found to be so life altering and essentially other. However, before I do so, let me note that I believe that any true relationship entailing knowing and being known is life altering in some way. I do not believe that one needs to be a mother or parent in order to grow in depth or meaning, as there are innumerable ways that each of us experiences growth in our own unique life journeys. Following are merely some of my personal reflections on how my life has been changing since I became a momma.

I first started thinking about how to put words to motherhood when I and my husband were still in the hospital with our then-newborn baby; I was trying to make sense of hitherto unimagined experiences ushered in by the arrival of our tiny, precious little man. The word I found then, and continue to find today, that comes even a tiny bit close to capturing my experience of motherhood thus far is “profound”. Profound in that it has such a weight to it, both literally and figuratively. Profound in that there is such an ocean of emotion, such a strength of relationship (not only with my baby, but also with my husband), such a pushing of physical and emotional boundaries. Profound in that it has such depth to it. Profound in that it is serving as such a catalyst for a growing and extending of myself in ways I previously never experienced or even imagined. Motherhood is profound in that it is indelibly changing me.

When thinking of my experiences in motherhood, I sometimes think of a metaphor involving a jar/vessel that holds experiences. Before becoming a mother, I experienced life from within the parameters of a certain sized jar, and had rich relationships and emotions and ongoing areas of growth within this space. Yet somehow through motherhood so far, my jar has been growing; the parameters of my jar have changed and, it feels, deepened in certain ways such that there is more space and thus more room to hold and experience: my joy is more joyful, my love is more reckless, my sadness is darker, my anxiety is more chest crushing, my exhaustion is more perpetual, my sacrifice is greater, my vulnerability more apparent, my finitude more humbling, my need for grace is more obvious… It is as though I am myself in a new way that is not incongruent with who I was before, but is nonetheless other – as I am called to love and sacrifice in ways that previously did not even exist for me, because no one needed me to love or even to be in the innumerable unique ways my baby now needs me.

I recognize myself, but I do not fully recognize myself. In this, labor seems to foreshadow parenthood – in labor I literally “pushed” to the utter limit of my physical, mental, and emotional capacities to usher my baby into the world, and in doing so saw a “me” that in many ways surprised me and seemed rather foreign. Now, in the ongoing journey of motherhood I find the relentless “pushing” of a metaphorical labor to include many instances that call me to come to the end of myself and yet to still love more and give more of myself to now usher my baby through childhood to adulthood; in the process I find I am becoming someone who I was not before. And I think that overall this is a positive change, or at least I hope it is. As I find myself imperfectly striving to love and disciple and cherish and raise my baby alongside my husband, I am deeply humbled as I realize day by day that I am paradoxically far more capable and far less capable than I previously believed. I can love in ways that I could not have imagined before, but my finitude and selfishness and sin and desperate need for grace are also all the more obvious. How I need grace from my husband, from my baby, from my family and friends. Ultimately, how I need grace from Jesus. I pray that seeking to walk the journey of motherhood drives me closer to the cross, and that in the end this new me will be a more sanctified me who can love others more truly.

I feel that before I close I want to mention my beloved husband, as he and I are forever linked as we journey through life – including our new adventures of parenthood – together. Seeing him love both me and our baby so gently, strongly, unwaveringly, graciously, and self-sacrificially has filled me with such deep joy and appreciation that I find myself daily falling even more in love with him. Perhaps someday I will write more about my labor experience, but for now I will say that while it was unspeakably hard, the tender moments I shared with my husband as he loved me – even the previously unseen parts (literal and metaphorical) of me – and stayed present with me and encouraged me and cried with me and hoped with me and celebrated with me and sacrificed with me will forever be cherished in my heart. In that moment, I witnessed his metaphorical jar/vessel growing too, as he was loving me in ways that were not incongruent with who he was before but that were new and incredible nonetheless. And I continue to witness his jar growing as he continues to love me and our baby every day of our new lives. Neither of us are the same as we were when we first met, or were married, or even before we had our baby, but how could we be? If parenthood – both motherhood and fatherhood – is indeed profound, how could it not leave permanent marks of love?