I need to write.

I need to write a blog post.

See, I don't have time to write one. That's what I've been saying the past few weeks, but I'm beginning to realize that the list of things to do doesn't shrink with the passing of time. What with my class starting in a few days, my ordination service coming in a few weeks, a wedding in a month, and my weekly sermonizing always looming nearer to the Sunday am deadline, I am in need of a break from the work/motherhood balance, a moment to reflect.

So I need to write to remind myself that I will never have "time" to write. Time doesn't appear out of thin air, we shape time. I am the one who chooses what to do with my time (except for when Briggs has a blowout diaper like the one an hour ago, then I suppose he chooses for me). But mostly, when I think I'm too busy to do something like write a blog post, it's usually me prioritizing my time in other ways.

And oh my time is in dire need of prioritizing. I still haven't fully figured out this whole balance of being a pastor during my child's nap times. That's more or less what it amounts to at the moment. And while I cherish this time with Briggs, my professional aspirations are often truncated because of it. Maybe that's what some would call a healthy respect for family, but I'm the type of person that wants to give 100% toward everything which I've committed myself.

Thus the prioritizing. I'm learning that I need to make the most of my time while AJ is home, in both a professional and personal capacity. This basically boils down to being "fully present" in the moment whether I'm working on a sermon (as Briggs plays with daddy) or discussing our days (while my sermon waits patiently for my return).

I've been feeling like my attention is "split," and it's not that I don't have the time, it's that I am still learning what it means to  make the most of the time I do have. And I actually think I'm improving, so long as Briggs doesn't cry for 4 straight hours (like yesterday), or my strange low-estrogen symptoms don't flare up, leaving me with little choice but to rest.

I need to write, because it allows me this brief moment to say to you, my friends, and myself that I'm starting to figure this whole pastor mom business out, even if it doesn't always seem like it. :) And trust me, when I'm in the midst of the tension between doing my best thinking on a sermon and tending to a crying child, it sure
doesn't seem like it.

That's the refreshing aspect of blogging- it can change my perspective, in just a moment of time.

I try to add a photo of Briggs to each post, because I assume he's a much better "draw" than any photo of me.

Grumpy Babies & God's Love

For awhile now, I’ve been pondering my newfound appreciation for the analogies and metaphors of God’s parental love. In particular, I appreciate the language accentuating the ties of a mother to her child. And yesterday, during one of Briggs’ especially grumpy days, my efforts to comfort him triggered my memory of these scriptural references to God’s love.

In Isaiah 49:15, the people of God are reminded of God’s covenant with them, and this scripture uses parental language to describe the loving relationship: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”

Again in Isaiah, chapter 66 is filled with language describing God’s relationship with Israel as that of a mother birthing her children, and verses 11-13 say, “For you will nurse and be satisfied at her comforting breasts; you will drink deeply and delight in her overflowing abundance. For this is what the Lord says: ‘I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.’”

Later in Matthew 23: 37, Jesus says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.”

As a hen gathers her chicks; I love this. I know this image, thanks to my father’s delight in all things poultry. And I can appreciate its tender and urgent undertones. I too feel the desire to gather Briggs under my wings and shelter him from the storms of life. I know I cannot do this forever, and I’m a self-accepting, overly-protective mother when it comes to Briggs and his sleep patterns…okay, I’m likely overly-protective of just about everything concerning my darling son.

Yesterday as we were out for a walk, Briggs (after a really difficult day) fell asleep in the stroller. As I walked along, I moved my body (often in awkward positions: sometimes hunched over, other times kicking the wheels of the stroller with my stride) to shade Briggs’ face with my own shadow. I realized that I—without question—desired to provide Briggs as much relief as I could- from the tears of the day, from the sun in his face, from whatever made him grumpy.

And still, despite all my desire to comfort Briggs, I already experience the frustration of doing everything in my power and not being able to always prevent his tears.

And so I think of God and God’s relationship with us.

What is it about my role as a mother that provides comfort to Briggs? While at times it might be nursing, or playing, or rocking him, most often my ability to comfort Briggs is due primarily to my presence with him. When he is crying in his crib, sometimes I get the feeling that he KNOWS I am about to come into his room, because he will stop crying for a moment as I near the door, nearly every time. And I think, maybe all he wants to know is that his mother is still here. Still loves him. Will still play with him when he’s done sleeping. And perhaps the scent of my skin is enough to give him comfort.

And oh I will. I will be there to scoop him out of the crib, change his diaper, kiss his little cheeks, and tell him how very much his momma loves him. Because that’s the compassion I have for my child.

And God promises the same for us. “I will not forget you!” God cannot shelter us from every storm in life, but God’s parental love promises us a presence that cannot be undone. A love that will never be severed. The scent of God will always be present to provide us reassurance. In fact, nothing in all of existence can separate us from the love that we have in Christ Jesus.

So as I think about how desperately I love Briggs, I am reassured that God’s love is only THAT much stronger, that much more capable, that much more lasting.

And I find comfort in the shelter of God’s wings.