Oh, my beating heart!

The other day, Sam was playing with Hannah in the family room. I snatched the opportunity to jump in the shower. I had just finished and was combing my hair...smiling at the playful coo's from a father and his daughter enjoying each other's company below. Just then the giggles stopped with an abrupt THUD. I heard my husband's intonations of concern, nearly drowned out by my daughter's painful cries. Time seemed to halt as I moved. "What? Sam! What HAPPENED?!" I yelled as I quickly left behind the bedroom, the hallway, the stairs. My mind filled with horrid visions of blood and injury. I was at my baby's side in an instant, though it felt much too long. As my arms scooped her from her father's embrace, my eyes and hands examined her tiny body. No blood. No injury. She had merely toppled over while sitting, thudding that pretty little head against the metal leg of her swing. There wasn't even a bump or a red spot. Her crocodile tears were soon dried up in my arms, as Papa distracted her from her shock with his bright smile. She was cooing again within seconds. It was only then that I noticed my pounding heart. It was only in the moment of relief that I realized the adrenaline coursing through my body and mind. I held her very close and smooshed her cheek to mine, thanking God for her safety.

Wow. What powerful emotions awakened in me at the thought of my little daughter getting hurt. Protectiveness. Fear. And that strange selflessness that wishes desperately to take the pain upon myself in order to relieve her. These emotions are a result of us being made in the image of God. After all, is He protective of us? Fiercely so. I don't think God feels fear, but He was so unwilling to lose us that He made the ultimate sacrifice. And He DID take our pain upon Himself for our relief. It's amazing how being a parent can so enhance our view and understanding of God and why He does what He does.

What's Good For Me

Ok, so Hannah has eczema. The dry patches first appeared when she 
was about 3 months old, so I took her to the doctor. She said it's common enough and to just put lotion on her daily. So, that's what I did. Turns out, Hannah doesn't like to be slathered in lotion twice a day. She would cry (read: scream as if she's dying) every time I put it on her. Those giant tears rolling down her cheeks and those pitiful wails 'bout broke my heart! But did I stop putting the medication on her? No, of course not. It was good for her. It was going to heal her. She didn't like it...and I knew that. But I also knew that she couldn't understand the true purpose for it. She could only feel and understand the discomfort it caused her in the moment...she didn't know that it would make her better in the long run.

Oh, thank you, dear daughter, for being a mirror for me! I am a lot like you. How many times have I turned my tear-stained face and wailing heart to heaven, begging God to stop the discomfort of the moment? Too many. And how many times have I paused in my pain to ask if He has a deeper purpose for it? Too few. Jesus sees my "dry patches" and His desire is to heal and hydrate. Now I understand a bit more of His heart, and how it breaks to ease my pain....but not the temporary pain. He longs to bring eternal healing. I pray I can learn to trust Him more completely. He knows what's good for me.

Summer Rain

There is something mysterious about a soft summer rain.
Something romantic.
Spiritual.
Something that stirs my very soul.

There is a thickness to the very air...the scent of coming rain.
The clouds break suddenly and my heart thrills at the torrent of falling water.
The initial rush subsides into a steady, straight-falling shower.
My excitement also mellows into introspection.
I revel in the cool wetness on the naked soles of my feet.
The soft tingle on my upturned face fills me with peace.
The muted resonance of each droplet ending it's journey on the earth...the trees...my shoulders is all I can hear.
The clouds cover the visible world like a heavy fleece blanket...only in the far horizon can I see the edge, shining like gold in the light of a hidden sun.

There is poetry in my soul as I stand there...wholey lost to just being.
Absorbing every drop as if I was the earth itself.
Knowing nothing my senses do not tell me, my feeling is one of primitiveness and profundity and purity.
The rain speaks to me of something above this world. Something clean.
A new beginning?
Refreshment? Grace?
God.

I could stay like this forever.
Reflective.
Peaceful.
Awakened.
Connecting with something beyond me...something within me.
The heat of the day and the pressing cares of life are cooled and soothed.

But the drops come farther apart now.
The cadence is slowing and the clouds are dissipating swiftly, exposing more and more of the evening sky.
I resign myself to the end, though I wish it would continue.

I must resume my practical roles of mother...wife...friend, and bid adieu to the philosopher and poet.

At least until the next soft summer rain.