I just feel so much. I say, with a tear-squeaky voice. I know. You say, holding space. You’re not alone. My carefully constructed walls continue to crumble. Have courage, my vulnerable, beating heart. I’m flooded with the joy, and terror, of love.
Category: Presence
of joy, of sorrow: human
oh, what it is to be human:
beautiful, eternal souls -
resilient, brave, loving.
housed in finite bodies -
breakable, fearful, vulnerable.
forever, and ephemeral -
paradox.
what joy we hold,
what sorrow.
how can our hearts carry
this lovely, terrible tangle -
of love, and loneliness;
closeness, and distance;
fullness, and loss;
laughter, and tears;
courage, and terror;
delight, and disgust;
tenderness, and anger;
healing, and trauma;
hope, and grief -
of life, and death?
we are living.
we are dying.
how can we choose
to be, in this space between?
we laugh, and weep;
worry, and rest;
dance, and slump;
fight, and reconcile;
despair, and rejoice;
help, and hurt;
withdraw, and speak;
destroy, and create;
learn, and forget;
hide, and seek;
work, and play;
sleep, and awaken;
move, and pray.
we are alone,
we are together;
we are devastated,
we are redeemed;
we deny,
we accept;
we hold tight,
we let go.
oh, what it is to be human!
we see shimmers of new life,
alongside dark shadows of death.
how shall we walk, and stumble,
on this side of earth?
love, recklessly -
hearts open
to intense sorrow,
to breathtaking joy.
A Moment of Joy Together
This weekend—on the first lovely, warmish, and sunny weekend day that we’ve had in what feels like ages—we went on a little walk as a family of four around our neighborhood, to the river, and through the local downtown. We were all delighted and a bit amazed to be out after weeks of subfreezing temperatures, and to simply enjoy the sun and fresh air on our skin as we wandered about on clear sidewalks and noticed signs of new spring life.
This was my toddler’s first opportunity to actually walk on the sidewalk (!!!), as he learned to walk this past fall just as the weather started to turn. Soon snow and boots and puffy jackets made it too challenging for him to be able to get about outside apart from standing uncertainly in the snow—looking like a stuck marshmallow in his snowsuit!—and being carried and riding on the sled as we pull him around the backyard. Some of these outdoor activities seemed to be at least a bit fun for him, but also left him without the opportunity to enjoy moving about on his own two little feet.
So, getting to take his own steps by the river, following his big brother, seemed to amaze my toddler’s little heart. As he held tightly to my hand, he let out peals of delighted laughter and flashed bright smiles, trying to keep up with his older brother who was bravely and excitedly running ahead to lead the way.
Later, after a bit of time in the stroller and being carried, I set my toddler back down on the sidewalk again nearer to our home. I held one hand, and his big brother held his other hand, while Daddy pushed the stroller along behind us. Whenever his big brother let go of his hand to go check something out, my toddler reached out his hand towards his big brother, calling “moh, moh!” (for “more”).
And so we all walked along for a few minutes, enjoying being in one another’s presence, alive together in the same moment experiencing the same simple joys in the same lovely sunshine. It was one of those precious, rare, fleeting moments, where I was flooded with such a sense of pure joy and contentment.
It was a simple moment, and yet a profound one too, and my heart swelled with love for those I hold dear. This small moment is probably one of my favorite times I’ve gotten to share with my little family. And it was lovely.
(Of course this moment did not last forever. Just a few minutes later one of the boys was throwing a tantrum. And then we were faced with the awful, wonderful chaos of getting everyone herded back up the steps to our home and inside, taking shoes and gloves and coats and scarves and hats off. Hands needed to be washed, snacks and diapers and potty breaks and attempted naps needed to be faced. And on and on—all the little normal and hectic and ceaseless moments of everyday life.)
And yet that sweet moment as our little family of four on our walk was very precious, and was such a gift, reminding me of the deep joy that sometimes comes unexpectedly and unforced, in little moments of togetherness in life. And I felt so grateful.
I know I can’t hold tightly to my sons’ hands forever, just as I can’t hold on to time and freeze moments eternally. And I suppose I wouldn’t truly want to, as a part of the beauty and heartbreak of life is growth, change, movement. But I can soak up these moments of love and joy and presence as they come, and I can hold them in my heart.
A Note of Love to my One Year Old
And just like that, my littlest love, you are 1, and you are walking..!
In what has been a dark year in the world and in my own emotional life, you have been such a beam of light. I’m so grateful for you, and I delight in you and in getting to know and love you more each day.
I’m so thankful for your joyful and resilient spirit, how quick you are to smile and laugh, how you’re not afraid to show your feelings of sadness and anger, how you get back up when you fall, how you face your fears with a growl and a show of curiosity, how you seek out relationship and also know how to be independent, how you know how to make the best of things, how you insist on your voice being heard, how you delight in learning new things, how incredibly busy you are, how you love to give kisses.
There are many things you (and your big brother) have been teaching me this year, but one lesson in particular that I’ve been reflecting on is about love. You have been showing me how love—and the context in which love occurs—does not have to be “perfect” in order to be “good enough”, and that there is joy and grace and unexpected resilience in this (less-than-perfect) space that is messy but still beautiful.
When you entered the world in 2019, none of us had any idea what 2020 would have in store, and the first year of your life definitely did not look like what I had imagined. But amidst many tears and worries, this year has also had so much love and hope, and we have shared many dear moments amidst the difficulty. I wouldn’t trade you, or the time we have shared together as a family this past year, for the world.
And now you are walking bravely ahead into a new year of life, falling down and getting back up, toddling here and there and everywhere. When you took your first steps a few weeks ago, you looked so very happy and full of smiles. We all bore witness to your accomplishment, and were so proud of you. Your big brother exclaimed, “Our baby is growing!”—and indeed you are. I cried—tears of joy (for your obvious delight, for how you are growing just as you are meant to), tears of sadness (don’t grow too quickly though, my little one).
Already you seem less like a baby and more like a toddler. Sometimes when I am rocking you at night, and you are still and calm, I just gaze at your precious, round baby face and your little open mouth. I feel your warm, milky breath puffing softly on my cheek; I soak up the warm weight of you in my arms. And I love you, and will always love you.
I hope you always know how wanted, loved, cherished, and delighted in you are—by me and your Dada, by your big brother, by your extended family, by Jesus.
I love you, my littlest love, my one year old. May you be brave, be kind, and grow, my little one. And as you grow bigger, may God grow your faith and keep you ever in his love.
But you, dear friends, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in God’s love as you wait for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you to eternal life…To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen.
Jude 20-21, 24-25
Laboring, Together
Last month, my husband and I welcomed our second precious little baby boy into the world! And while this experience is impossible to fully capture in words, something I can say is that it has led me to marvel once again at the beauty and power of relationship, and of being present in relationship—with others, as well as ultimately with God. It also has led me to rejoice anew in the hope of the Gospel.
I had a grueling and somewhat traumatizing first labor, although thankfully both my first baby as well as I ended up being okay in the end. Yet after this experience, “horrifying” was the main word that came to mind, unbidden, whenever I thought of labor. And even though I dearly wanted to have another baby, as soon as I discovered I was pregnant for the second time, I began having nightmares about having to give birth. During my first labor, my experience of intense pain led me to panic, struggle for control, fight against the pain, and turn inward—which left me feeling alone and overwhelmed even though my husband, my doula, and my nurses were all in the room to support me. Although I was present physically, emotionally I was completely alone and checked out. As I learned from processing with my husband and doula later on, they said they too felt I was unreachable, and that they felt helpless to help me in my pain as I was turned so far inward in spite of them wanting to be with me.
As my husband and I, along with our doula, processed our first birth experience and looked toward our second, we thought a lot about what we appreciated about our first experience as well as what we hoped would be different the second time around. And the main two words we came to were “present” and “trusting”. We hoped and prayed that we could have an experience in which we were more present with one another and in our experience—rather than fearful—and more trusting of one another, our support team, in the process itself, and ultimately the LORD.
Practically, there were certain exercises I practiced to help me work through some of the trauma and reactivity I felt regarding labor, including praying, talking with my husband and trusted friends to process various aspects of my experience, using the Gentle Birth program to practice mindfulness and breathing exercises and some hypnotherapy exercises, and journaling. But mostly preparing for a labor where I and my husband hoped we could be more present looked like me, as well as him, trying to be more intentional in our everyday lives in being vulnerable, present, and trusting in our relationships and our ensuing emotions. We tried to be intentional in these ways our relationships with each other, with family and friends, in our relationship with God, even in our relationship with ourselves. And as we prepared and invited more people into our experience, while we were still afraid at times, we also found that we were slowly but surely moving towards feeling more connected and hopeful—more present and trusting.
And when the long-anticipated day of labor finally came, my husband and I felt the LORD’s presence with us in such a special way even as we were present with one another, our doula, and the support staff at the hospital. While of course there were many moments of pain and difficulty, the pain and the difficulty felt “okay” instead of “horrifying” because I did not feel alone. When the pain came, instead of turning inward, I tried to invite others into my experience as well as to respond to their offers of reaching to me, helping me, and sitting with me in that space. My husband stayed with me, offering his steady and encouraging and comforting presence through the highs and lows, and we felt all the more connected in our love for one another for going through this special experience together. My doula stayed with me, offering her reassuring, comforting, and competent presence as she helped me continue on even when it felt so hard. The nurses and doctors stayed with me, offering encouragement and well as the ability to practically care for the well-being of me and my baby.
Staying present with my husband and with the rest of my support team, as well as staying present in my own emotional experience, felt incredibly vulnerable—it is hard to imagine a more physically and emotionally messy and vulnerable time of life than labor. I was tempted many times to slip back into my typical response of trying to take control and turn inward, and even moved toward this space at times. But I am so grateful my husband and support team stayed with me, beckoning me back even in these hard moments, and that overall by God’s grace I was able to respond to their invitations to presence. And the connection that came out of being present and trusting was so beautiful and richly rewarding, and made the experience of labor and delivery all the more profound and joyful. As my husband and doula and support team sat with me in my distress and proved able to hold my experience, they also rejoiced with me when the long-awaited moment of baby’s entry into the world came. What a sweet moment birth finally was, a moment that was all the sweeter for being shared amidst all of us that were in the room!
I am convinced that as is the case with so much of earthly life, my experience of relationship in labor is a small reflection of many aspects of the Gospel. During labor, my husband and my doula offered me unconditional love and presence, as well as the ability and willingness to hold my emotions and experience. Even when—in both an emotional as well as a literal physical sense—I was weak, and needy, and messy, and completely vulnerable, they never failed to stay with me. Instead of leaving me alone, or telling me to clean up or get it together, or to rely on my own strength, they entered into my experience and sat with me until labor was complete, I delivered my dear baby, and gradually I began to recover. I am unspeakably grateful, humbled, and filled with love as I think of the grace, love, and help my husband and doula extended to me even in this most tender of moments.
The power of relationship that I experience in labor provides me with a beautiful, tangible glimpse of the unconditional love and grace that God extends to us in Jesus by the power of his Holy Spirit: He invites us into relationship with him, through the cleansing work of Jesus on the cross and by the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit. Though we were spiritually entangled and dirtied in our sin, helpless to save ourselves apart from him—as messy and as unloveable and needy as we could possibly be—he entered into relationship with us, cleansed us, welcomed us into new life, adopted us as his very sons and daughters (e.g., Eph. 1-2). And he continues to offer his presence to us in the person of the Holy Spirit (e.g., Jn. 14:16-17, 26-27); he is a God who is near (e.g., Phil. 4:5), who comforts us (e.g., 2 Cor. 1:3-4), who saves us (e.g., Jn. 3:16-17). Because he is with us, we can remain true and faithful until he returns (e.g., 1 Cor. 1:4, 7-9). And someday, once Jesus does return and make all things right, we will be perfectly in relationship with him, all sorrow will have passed, and we will rejoice with Jesus and with one another (e.g., Rev. 21:5, 22:1-5). We are not alone, and never will be. If, as I experienced in labor, relationship with fellow humans is so powerful and life-changing, even to the point of making the seemingly unbearable bearable, how much more profound is relationship with the one true God?
How thankful I am for presence and trust in relationships—relationship with loved ones, and ultimately relationship with the LORD.
*My husband and I are infinitely grateful for our doula, whose presence with us in labor made all the difference in the world!
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! (:
Father’s Day Presence
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
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.
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.