Look at me

I am the kind of mom who has a real problem with paying attention to my kids when they don't necessarily need it. I can spend 30 minutes easy on Facebook or YouTube, browsing memes or cute puppy videos, or checking my newsfeed to see if anyone has said anything poignant while the kids sit and play with their toys or are watching a show. I'm even tempted to insist they don't really need me when they ask for my attention if I'm in the middle of a Candy Crush level or an intense back and forth over chat. Eventually, they will literally grab my face and say, "Look at me!" Usually, their big eyes bring me low, and I'm ashamed that I've ignored them for as long as I had. When I finally do meet their gaze, their whole face just brightens, especially my little guy, as if to say, "Yes! Now I have you. Hi. I love you." One morning, while meeting that gaze and basking in that smile, it just sort of clicked: It's not just my presence they need; it's my attention.

My mom's group is in the middle of reading about being a Mary in a Martha world (if you're not familiar with the story of Lazarus's sisters and their initial meeting of Jesus, you can find it here) and it's really tough for me to just sit at Jesus feet when I feel like there's always something to do! In the faith traditions I was taught in, the focus was on whatever you DO, do it all for the glory of God (Col 3:17.) Great verse, good focus, but not for us Marthas. For us, even when there's nothing to do, we'll find something, or we will entertain ourselves with unproductive, menial time wasters we've deemed are rewards for all the stressful activities that normally fill our life. Before we know it, hours have passed and we've gotten little productive work done. Then, like Martha who was up preparing her home for her guests while Jesus sat in her living room only attended to by her sister Mary, realize that even though He's been there, we haven't actually said two words to Jesus all day.

Martha's "Look at me!" moment was when she asked Jesus to make Mary help her, and he responded with, "Martha, you are worried about many things, but only one is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:41) I think Jesus was calling back to her mind when David in Psalm 27 said, "One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple" (vs 4.) Jesus was telling her, "You're here, but you're not here. All you need to do is sit down and talk to me."

Unlike my kids, Jesus will wait for me to acknowledge Him. It's almost like when you're out to coffee with someone and they're on their phone the whole time. (Don't you hate that? I hate that too.) They're looking down, and you're staring a hole into their forehead, trying to mind bullet them to look up and pay attention to you. When they finally glance upward and catch you staring, the embarrassment is obvious, and all you can do is smile and say something engaging. Or what's worse, they don't realize they've been distracted and rude, and the reason they look up is to complain about what they've been preoccupied with (I am SO guilty of my prayer life looking like this.) Thankfully, Jesus is far more gracious with me than I would be with someone, and when I meet His eyes, it's the same message I get from my kids: "Yes! Now that I have your attention: Hi, I love you," and suddenly, whatever I was doing doesn't seem so important or necessary anymore. It's just like the hymn describes, "the things of this earth grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace."

Father God, it's easy for me to be distracted with this or that, and exaggerate the urgency of tasks at hand. I ask that You would give me balance today, to steward well the time You give me to complete what You've asked of me and the reassurance that the best thing I can do sometimes is just BE in Your presence. Thank you for Your grace and constant message that I am loved, and the way little children always lead me back to You. In Jesus' name, amen.

A tale of two sons: a lesson in suffering

Hi friends! If you're still here, thank you. Life got a little crazy for awhile, and between working, children that don't sleep, holidays and general life, I haven't had time to just sit and be quiet and listen for where God was speaking. A few weeks ago, though, we had a virus rip through our whole family, and it forced me sit and wait and do nothing.

My older boy, who is just two and a half, spent the 3 days he was sick in my lap. All he wanted was a cup of juice, a blanket, and his Mama. When he would throw up, he would cry and ask for my comfort, and while I was cleaning him up, I would hug him or run my fingers through my hair, telling him, "I'm sorry you feel bad, baby. You'll feel better soon," while I offered him another Pedialyte popsicle.

My little guy, who is 10 months now, had never been sick before. Every bout of vomiting brought panic and fear, and he would stare at me, eyes screaming, "make this stop." His panic shook his tiny body and while he wanted me, he also rejected my comfort. He didn't really want ME, he wanted my intervention. He wanted me to make the thing that was hurting him suddenly stop as suddenly as it had come on. But as it is with viruses, there was nothing I could do but offer him a little bit of breastmilk, lots of hugs and a wait for it to pass.

What is it that my toddler understood that my infant didn't? 

I've written about trusting God before, many times, but the contrast of the kid's reactions to their plight struck me. They were both experiencing the same thing, and it was AWFUL (trust me, my husband and I caught it too,) but one leaned in while the other one pushed away. 

My firstborn was comforted because he allowed comfort. He rested because he took his tylenol willingly, and sips of water when he could and sat in my lap with his head on my chest and allowed me to provide what I could give him. He understood that sickness passes and that he just needed to get through it and that he wouldn't be left alone in that yucky place, as I would always be there.

My baby, never being sick before, could have thought his insides were coming out. He didn't want medicine, so he spat it back out. He didn't want milk or comfort, he wanted the suffering to end. He only rested when his little body finally gave out and even then, I made sure he was asleep on my chest because I need to teach him that even when I can't take away his sickness, I would never leave him alone in it.

Our lives, since September, have been one disappointing blow after another. We've been bypassed on job opportunities that looked like we were shoo ins for, we had a minor car problem turn into a letter saying it was being totaled and we had a dream come true opportunity to move turn into a complete and total nightmare. Each time we were left with our hands empty and our hearts broken, but instead of asking to be saved or with our fists raised in anger, we cried out to our Father for comfort and boy... did it come. It came in the form of friends sitting and crying with us, it came in managers offering mentorship and extra training to get us to where we eventually want to go, it came in not one, but two cars being presented to us in the exact price range we can afford that will leave us without a car payment and with girlfriends who greatly desired us to have a non-stressful, joyous Christmas season, gifting us a month's rent. And as a bonus, in the midst of all of these setbacks, my marriage has never been stronger.

Paul in Romans says, "Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:17-18)

Glory. That's what was in the Father's mind when Christ was being led to a cross, knowing He could not offer Jesus the relief He asked for. He knew that the present suffering was not even worth comparing with the glory that would be revealed in the resurrection, and even though I believe the Father suffered with His Son, He knew the sickness, the trial, the disappointment was only going to last a fraction of the comfort, the trust, the triumph that was about to be displayed.

I don't know what suffering you're experiencing today, and I can't promise that it will end in this life. What I can promise you, though, is if you're like my big guy, and you lean in, comfort will come in ways you never expected. If you're more like my little guy, though, and you're still in a place where you just want things to be better, and you don't so much care about future glory, don't despair. I delight in both my boys, and it will be beautiful moving him from a place of panic in suffering to trusting who I am and what I can provide him, the same way the Father has so patiently taken me from being someone who demanded intervention to being someone who throws myself on the mercy and compassion of my loving Father. I pray the journey for you takes less time than it took me.

This wasn't while they were sick, but doesn't this just sum it up perfectly?