Anger

Lately I have been thinking a bit about anger and its relationship to fear and control. My toddler now clearly feels and expresses a whole range of emotions, and does so in such a visible and visceral manner. This is beautiful and refreshing in its own way, and leads to many sweet moments of such tangible joy and laughter and wonder. And yet, as a little person, he of course also feels emotions such as sadness and anger. I notice that his anger, often times expressed through hitting or throwing, can at times feel like a crisis to me. This can seem like a crisis not because Bubsy experiences anger (which is a healthy part of being human), but because it elicits in me a sense of fear and need to control.

A wise person in my life said something to the effect that many difficulties in parenting arise when we parent out of fear of the future rather than in response to the current situation. I certainly see this being true for me, as while Bubsy’s hitting makes me sad and sometimes even physically hurts me or others a little bit, the true difficulty for me is that I can slip into a place of fearing for his future – What if he gets labelled as “bad” or a “bully” by others because of how he sometimes hits, and this prevents him from making friends? What if his hitting gets worse and worse as he gets bigger? What if my husband and I are “bad” parents because we don’t respond in the “right” way? What even is the “right” way to respond? What if everything spirals out of control and we fail Bubsy?

I tend to be one who internalizes what I am feeling and who initially wants to push down negative emotions, which means that often much of what I feel manifests as anxiety. Growing up I certainly had a hard time experiencing anger; I had difficulty even acknowledging that I felt anger let alone knowing what to do with it. And this is still a struggle today, although I have been working on it, along with the help of numerous wise people speaking into my life and challenging me and modeling healthy expressions of anger. Which means when my toddler so clearly feels and expresses anger, there is a part of me that is glad that he can express it and that wants to support him in learning to express it well, but there is also a part of me that really does not know how to respond and wants to just control his anger or force it to go away.

Another wise person in my life recently listened to my concerns about my toddler’s anger and affirmed that it is actually great that Bubsy is expressing himself. He encouraged me to think of this as an opportunity for me and my husband to help Bubsy learn to experience anger without resorting to either extreme of “freaking out” or “shutting down” – and in doing so, to practice this for ourselves as adults as well. This ground is rich with the possibility of learning to do something new, to break generational patterns pertaining to the experience of and expression of anger – and in doing so to catch small glimpses of the Kingdom now as by God’s grace relationship with Jesus makes it possible to change even longstanding patterns.

I used to think that all anger is “bad”, but today my understanding is beginning to go something like this: Anger is a sign that something is wrong, but that something can be nuanced and identifying it often takes some reflection. What is wrong may fall in the category of: (1) I am doing something wrong (e.g., I am being sinful in an interaction and am hurting someone else; perhaps I am being selfish or judgmental or entitled or controlling, etc.); (2) someone else is doing something hurtful (e.g., their own sin is coming in to play and they have done something to hurt me); (3) something is wrong in the world (as the world is impacted by the Fall, there are countless painful things that now happen even though they were not originally meant to); or (4) any combination of the above.

If this is truly the case, then acknowledging anger provides opportunities for responding in adaptive and even helpful ways – for adults, this might mean having loving yet honest conversations with those involved pertaining to issues contributing to anger and seeking resolution (which can actually strengthen relationships!), praying and repenting when needed, making changes in situations contributing to anger, acknowledging the reality of sin and brokenness and bringing this to Jesus, learning to make space for emotions without having to act directly out of them, and so on. For a toddler, this might mean finding words to express what is wrong, asking for help in identifying the problem and offering responses, learning to use coping skills, beginning to practice skills pertaining to sharing and being flexible, and more. Anger does not need to be a “scary” or “dangerous”, and even can be a helpful indicator that change is needed or that we need to practice relating to others or the world in new ways.

And this is a much more hopeful and much less fear-based response to anger. Instead of needing to control my toddler’s anger, I can lean into it and view it as an opportunity for growth and change and trusting in Jesus – both for Bubsy as well as for me and my husband. Even though this growth is hard, I am thankful for this opportunity to experience something new, and am hopeful that by God’s grace he can use even this to make me and those I love more like Jesus.

Jesus is Better

“Jesus is better.” I have been reflecting often on this phrase since I heard a man share this short yet profound statement in the conclusion of his testimony at church a few months ago.

I say that I want to believe Jesus is better, but do I truly believe this, in my heart of hearts? I have really been wrestling with this lately, especially as it pertains to those I love most dearly. As I have written about before, I really struggle with trusting the LORD with those I love, especially my baby and my husband. Do I truly believe that Jesus is better than my baby’s well-being, or my husband’s? Do I really believe that any suffering and loss and pain endured in this life will pale in comparison to the eternal life and hope and joy that we have in Jesus?

It is not even that I have been experiencing any real suffering lately; it is more that I find myself so often afraid of what the (earthly) future may hold. Yet I keep feeling convicted that if I truly believed that Jesus is better, if I really trusted in God’s sovereignty and goodness, if I genuinely understood in my heart (leb) the incomparable glory and joy of a future with Jesus, this present life would be put in its proper place – as in I would be free to love with vulnerable abandon in the present and make the most of every opportunity while keeping my eyes fixed on Jesus. But instead, I find myself often becoming so fixated on my fear of loss that I cling tightly and try to control in order to “ensure” well-being. Yet if I am completely honest, I realize that my “control” is only an illusion, that well-being in this life is not guaranteed, and that if anything my striving for control mostly just makes me less able to be present in loving those I most want to love.

So I find myself praying often that the Holy Spirit would be helping me to truly know that Jesus is better, that he would help me to love and trust Jesus, that he would give me faith. That by the help of the Holy Spirit – whom Jesus promised to his followers in John 14 – I would learn to abide in Jesus, the only True Vine (John 15) by trusting, praying, and remaining obedient. That in doing so I would experience the fullness of true and lasting joy that can only be found in Jesus, that is not of this world, and that is not contingent upon earthly circumstances. And that as the Holy Spirit helps me, I would bear fruit and glorify God by truly being able to keep Jesus’ commandment of loving one another as he has loved all of his followers.

John 15:1-12 English Standard Version (ESV)

I Am the True Vine

15:1 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. 2 Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. 3 Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you. 4 Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. 5 I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7 If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples. 9 As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. 10 If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. 11 These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. 12 This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

 

One!

This past weekend our dear little baby turned one! It was such a special time of love and of presence, and of celebration – of our baby, and of God’s work in his and our lives. The night before Baby’s birthday, after he was fast asleep, my husband and I decorated downstairs with balloons and streamers and birthday signs and party hats and noisemakers, and set out his wrapped presents. (We found ourselves growing so excited that we wanted to run upstairs to wake Baby up and show him the festivities he had in store; it was just so sweet to be able to lovingly plan for his special day.) The next morning, Baby was indeed amazed and delighted by the decorations; he pointed at the streamers and touched the signs, and especially loved pointing at and playing with his birthday balloons (which, thankfully, did not pop).

And decorations were just the beginning of a birthday filled with special surprises. We made Baby breakfast pancakes. We video chatted with family – they even sang him “Happy Birthday”, and he got to show them his new presents. He played with his new toys – he especially seemed to love his new toy train – and of course had to do some napping as well to replenish his birthday spirits. He also put up with a birthday photoshoot in an adorable birthday outfit that included suspenders and a matching little bowtie – although how squirmy and busy he now is made it much more challenging to take his one year pictures than his one month pictures.

In the afternoon, Nana and Papa arrived to join the celebration. Baby got to enjoy playing with them and even helped Papa and Daddy assemble his toy car track – said “helping” which included him holding the directions and hiding a piece or two. For dinner he got to enjoy birthday meatballs, followed by…birthday cake!!! He admired his cake and intently watched the candle while we sang him happy birthday, and then we gave him a slice. Right away he got blue icing all over his face and nose and hands, and then he grabbed the cake and shoved it right into his mouth. His little face quickly moved from surprise to glee, and he smiled and squealed and squished his hands and kicked his feet and quickly took another bite. As he became full, he then began to admire his blue hands and to study the texture of the cake and, of course, to smile around at all of us to make sure we saw how delightful this new experience was. And, indeed, it was delightful for all of us – his joy was contagious, and we were all full of smiles and laughter and gratitude in getting to witness and join in with his delight. He got a wonderful sugar rush from his cake, and was able to stay up nearly two hours past his regular bedtime to play and enjoy his birthday just a little longer before drifting off to sleep. And the celebrations extended into the rest of the weekend, other highlights of which included a botanical garden adventure, trying his first French fry, more playing and even snuggles with Nana and Papa, and shared enjoyment with the family.

All in all, I think it was a very sweet first birthday, which seemed a fitting way to celebrate what has been a very sweet first year with our dear Baby. I hope Baby felt very celebrated and special and loved; I certainly know that we love him and cherished this weekend with him. I find myself often wanting to press pause and save a moment forever, but as a wise colleague of mine often encourages me to do, I am trying to be a “sponge” and “soak up” these moments by being present in them and having a grateful heart. And we truly do have so much to be grateful for – my husband and I love our baby so much we can hardly contain it. As often seems to be the case for me in parenthood, I find I do not have adequate words to express the depth of love I have for my baby or how profound parenthood is or how thankful I am. The other day, my husband expressed that seeing Baby smile and hearing him laugh often leads my husband to feel as though he is about to cry because of how much he loves Baby; this is something I too feel more often than I can say – there is often a sense of my heart simply overflowing. The LORD has been so gracious to us and our baby this past year, and we are so humbled and so grateful for how he has been sustaining us and caring for us.

The milestone of Baby’s first birthday also prompted me and my husband to reflect on our baby, how he has grown, and how God has been at work in Baby’s and our lives this year. We are so thankful for our baby, for his joyful and friendly spirit, his contagious laughter, his insatiable curiosity, his playful antics, his quick smile, his tendency to express his emotions with his whole being, his snuggles, his hugs, his “ojitos”, the way he loves to copy us, the sound of his little yawns in our ears when we hold him close before bedtime, the way he sleeps with his bottom up in a pyramid, how when he “walks” holding our hands he sticks his tummy out, the messy curl to his hair, his perfectly chubby baby feet, the way he loves to try new food, the way he looks to us to share enjoyment, his flexibility and willingness to try new things…the list could of course go on endlessly. How he has grown since we first met him a year ago, and how we love getting to know him better each day as he continues to develop into his own little person.

As my husband and I reflect on how we hope God will continue to be at work in our baby’s life in the future, we pray that Baby will grow up knowing he is loved by Jesus, by us, and by family and friends – and that as he grows, he will come to reciprocate this love by loving Jesus, us, and others. It seems fitting to close with the verse that we often pray over Baby, and in which we ourselves have also found much hope and encouragement:

Ephesians 3:14-19 New International Version (NIV)

 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.

We love you, Baby. May you always be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Happy One! (:

Sleepy Smile

Lately I have been enjoying moments of nursing more, especially as I increasingly see how quickly my baby is turning into a little boy – who will not be nursing forever. Nursing can be hard work, especially when I myself feel tired, but it also can be very sweet. One such sweet moment occurred earlier this week. I was tired after a long day, and was greatly looking forward to going to bed. I tried to creep quietly into bed so-as to not wake our baby (as he still sleeps in our room in his Pack n Play), but I was not quiet enough and he woke up crying. I snuggled him close to nurse, with my mind still on bed, but I spent a few moments gazing down as I nursed him. And as I did so, I was struck by how precious it is to be able to share these quiet, sleepy moments with him. This was an especially tender moment, as he was in such a soft and snuggly and gentle mood. He popped his head up from nursing, and in the darkness just barely illuminated by his one small bear nightlight, he smiled up at me and at my husband. His sleepy smile was the type of smile that was so big it took up his entire face; he squinted together his eyes and leaned back his head and showed all four of his dear little teeth. My husband and I soaked up this moment, treasuring it. And I pulled our baby close, and kissed him, and breathed in his baby smell, and felt his warmth and squishiness.

The Goodness of Watermelon

My baby started eating rice cereal and pureed food several months ago, but only within the past several weeks has he been eating finger foods as well. Watching him experience food in all its textured, flavorful, chewy glory has been delightful to witness: He seems genuinely amazed and proud to be able to touch the food on his high chair tray with his very own fingers. He also seems to find great fulfillment and purpose in diligently practicing his pincer grasp, whereby he – increasingly successfully – attempts to bring the morsels of food, accompanied by several fingers that often seem to have wiggly lives of their own, to his mouth. This arrival of any food/fingers to his mouth is often celebrated by a broad, open mouthed, toothy “hippo” grin such as completely melts my heart. There truly is no one else with whom my husband and I would rather share our meals, or our days.

One of baby’s most unbridled expressions of joy so far during this finger foods process came about when I gave him a piece of watermelon several days ago. I was eating watermelon with my own lunch, and as he was watching me very intently, I offered him a piece of his own. He immediately broke out in an eager smile, then proceeded to open his hands wide in excitement. Soon, he began to use his fingers to explore the cold, juicy texture while giving the sound he often makes when excited – a little “huh” chuckle that is often accompanied by smiles and sometimes even by flapping arms alternating with the tensing of his arms and legs as he squeezes out his excitement. He used his ever-improving pincer grasp to bring the juicy melon to his mouth, said melon which he then sucked on, took out of his mouth to again look and laugh at, returned to his mouth to suck and chew on, and even eventually swallowed (or at least partially swallowed). By the end, he was still full of smiles and laughter, and his adorable face and little hands – as well as his highchair, bib, and everything else within reach – were covered in pink, juicy, sticky evidence of the watermelon he had so loved.

As is often the case, getting to see the way in which my baby delights in the world around him encourages me to see and reflect upon the world in new ways myself. His enjoyment of food –especially watermelon! – is no exception. Witnessing his experience with watermelon leads me to wonder about food as God originally intended it to be. As everything that God created was good (Genesis 1:31), I imagine food is no exception. Not only did God originally create human beings as good, and food as good, he made human beings with taste buds to register the delicious goodness of food – and as far as I can tell this is not something that God had to do (as I’m sure he could have thought up other ways to ensure people partook of enough energy to sustain life). And yet he did! And the fact that he did can and does bring us great joy and fellowship, even as I got to experience as I ate lunch with my dear little baby. As an aside, this reminds me of a professor at my undergraduate institution who had a heart that was especially worshipful; one of his sermons included an exhortation to take time to truly look at the world around us – an example of which included the amazing complexity of taste buds – for if we truly do so, we will not be able to help but be moved to worship God. This makes me inclined to think that enjoying watermelon together, or any food, can lead to worship.

I like thinking about how food enjoyed well can lead to worship and can also be a space for fellowship, which leads me to believe food can be life-giving in a literal sense but also in a spiritual and relational sense. I especially appreciate recognizing this goodness of food, as I also know how food eaten for less wholesome reasons or in other ways can be particularly soul deadening. One of the many implications of living life after the Fall (Genesis 3) is that even good things can be grossly distorted, and I think food, including human relationships with food, is no exception. I even think that sometimes food itself can mistakenly become an object of worship, or that relationship with food can take place of relationship with others or even with God. I experienced this for myself in a particularly extreme way in my junior high years when I became anorexic and isolated, and today still notice I can sometimes look to food as a form of comfort or avoidance or indulgence or rest or happiness, or as a way to control, or as a way to “fill” emptiness I may feel in my heart.

Yet seeing my baby enjoy food in a way that I imagine is close to how God originally intended brings me great joy and hope that even in this fallen world the goodness of food can be redeemed – that it can be enjoyed in its rightful place, for what it is, and that it can lead to worship and fellowship and life.

The Aquarium

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

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

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

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

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.