Monday, February 11, 2013

God's Love

Stayed upon Jehovah,
Hearts are fully blest
Finding, as He promised,

Perfect peace and rest.

Late the other night I stepped into my daughter’s room where she was nestled in her crib. She stirred a bit as I gathered her in my arms and held her close, nursing her back to sleep. Before I laid her back down, I stopped to gaze at her tiny face. Her breath was warm and sweet on my shoulder, her lips pink and still, her eyes peaceful and at rest. And for those few moments, I was able to see her through the window of God’s eyes: perfect.

It didn’t make any difference that she has webbed toes, or wakes me up at night, or that she cries a lot, or hasn’t learned to crawl. The only thing that mattered, the only thing on which my love was based, was that she was my child.
I knew the next morning would bring a new day, full of tears, messes, dirty diapers, and the like. I knew that our special moment together would seem like a fairy tale amidst the mundane tasks of everyday life. I knew that I would lose my temper, sometimes speak sharply, grow weary, and again see her through my own fallen eyes and not God’s. But the perspective of our Lord does not change as does ours. If we are in Christ, he sees us always and forever, as perfect; because, when He looks at us, He sees His child.
So often I try to earn God’s favor, when all He requires of me to is to come in childlike dependence and rest. I toil to please Him when His favor is already mine. If I think I have fallen short, I punish myself with guilt when forgiveness has already been extended.  I doubt His unchanging love, supposing it is like mine.
I think of the prodigal son who squandered his father’s wealth and reputation with selfish, wild living. As a parent, how would I have reacted? Would I have been angry? Complaining? Scolding or correcting? But he was none of these. He cared for nothing but fellowship with his son. Yes, he was not worthy and barely deserved to be made like one of his hired men. But to that father, he had back his child. Instead of punishing him as his behavior deserved, he welcomed him with celebration and joy.
Dear God, I pray that I may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and depth and height — to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge; that I may be filled with all the fullness of God.
Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us, to Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.
Amen.

 

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Little Babies Can Do Big Things


We’ve all been there.

The baby poops, and you assume it’s going to be a standard, run-of-the-mill change.

This happened to me last night. My 9-month-old had the telltale smell, so I brought her to the couch for a new diaper. Normally I would use the changing table, but the rest of the clan was napping in the back, so I gathered my supplies and commenced. Then it happened.

You know, when you remove the innocent-looking stretchy pants and realize they are much, much heavier than they should be.

When you see poop, plastered all the way down one flailing limb.

When you stand back and marvel at how such a TINY BABY could produce THAT MUCH POOP.

And you realize: THIS WILL BE NO ORDINARY DIAPER CHANGE.

So there we were: my precious baby dangling by one soiled leg, me fumbling for a wipe. And of course, all the wipes were stuck in a big ball and would not fit through the hole. So I’m shaking the clump in its crackly casing, and my daughter hears it, and wants to reach for some of the action, but instead covers her hand in poop. Now, we all know the inevitable destination of all babies’ hands: THE MOUTH. Yes, so there I am, helpless, wipeless, and my little princess about to ingest E coli. In my panic I whip those puppies out a la Indiana Jones. Of course, now I can’t get them apart. Have you ever tried to get a string of wipes apart with one hand? Yeah. So I just use the whole line of them on my daughter. So what if I got poop on the couch? The cushions are brown. By now, of course, she is screaming, turning our little 1200-square-foot house into a cavernous noise tunnel and, I’m sure, waking the natives. When I realize that I need a few hundred more wipes to cover the rest of the damage, I notice that the other pouch is ALL THE WAY OVER THERE. Yes, I did the cardinal sin: I left my baby alone ON THE COUCH for 10 seconds. Sorry, What to Expect the First Year. I did not leave one hand on the baby during the entire change. Thank God she survived.

Finally, I get her little bottom back to its pink perfect self. I consider tossing the pants in the garbage. Sooooo much easier, right? But no, that would be a waste. So, two pairs of gloves, one change of trash, a gallon of dish soap, a slanted utility sink full of vinegar, a whole mess of sanitizing wipes, one load of laundry, and fifteen minutes later, I have victory.

This time.