I spent most of it standing. Well, standing and bouncing and rocking. Because my little one is getting to that age where he really doesn't nap well in a wrap, anymore, and the more I can move, the more likely he is to fall asleep. So I stood by the stained glass window, the light carrying the colors and painting them across my back, and swayed and rocked and rocked and swayed.
And finally the baby did fall asleep, and I cautiously sat back down next to my husband while the pastor finished his message with the baby's soft breath on my collarbone.
Honestly, that's kind of how my life looks right now. I bounce and I sway. I change diapers. I find missing toy bulldozers and I kiss owies and I scramble to decide what's for supper. I get out of the house twice a week if I'm lucky, because between the two different nap schedules; feeding, clothing, and diapering everyone; and keeping my house livable; I haven't really been able to figure out how to do it more frequently. Where I once was able to really delve into the Bible and study and linger, now I try to read a verse or two a day and my brain is just too full to really ponder scripture.
And that's okay. Because this is a season. And it's a good season. I'm so blessed and so grateful to be right where I am.
But sometimes I wonder if I'm really living out my calling. You know? Like, once I was able to write. I hope that through my words, blessed by His grace, I was able to inspire a little, or encourage a little, or maybe bring someone to a slightly fuller realization of God. And it just... it just felt right.
At the moment, I have a hard time piecing together enough scraps of time to write out a quick blurb about what we did last week.
Back then, I knew I was sharing my faith.
Right now? It just doesn't feel like it.
As the pastor concluded his message, he invited us to share in communion together and I settled in to the sacred become familiar. I've done this probably hundreds of times. The body, the blood. And sometimes it becomes almost rote and I don't think about the significance, but this time, with my child sleeping with his fuzzy little head on my chest, I made a point to quiet my heart, to lean in. To remember. To truly partake.
My soul still, and my sins repented, I watched as the body, the blood, passed closer to my spot in the sanctuary.
And as I reached for my portion of the miraculous sacrifice, my little boy woke up.
His big round eyes watched as I took the bread, as I took the cup. He watched silently, attentive, as if he was memorizing my motions and my expressions.
This. It's as if God breathed the realization into my mind, like He was bringing fresh air to a place I didn't realize was stuffy and stagnant. He answered the question I don't think I even really asked of Him.
This.
This is how I share my faith in this season.
And how easily I discount it.
But look at those eyes. Always watching.
Where once my words sent the message, now my life must. Every time we bow our heads at the table, every time I make a mistake and ask for forgiveness, every devotional read, every time I sing at the top of my lungs to a praise song in the minivan on the way to the library...
I forget that truly, this is my calling. This is my most powerful, most life-altering ministry. I forget that these little years of raising my children are the foundation years of their lives.
And oh yes, I'm going to mess it up. I'm going to make lots of mistakes and give too much significance to one thing where I really should be focusing on something completely different and my wisdom will fail and my body will be tired and my temper will be short. But I trust that God will use it all for His purposes in my sons.
It's the small moments, the daily habits and routines and how I choose to live my days. Taking them all individually, it looks like such an inadequate way to show the incredible miracle of salvation. But I know that God uses small crumbs at empty tables to feed thousands.
May He use the small, pitiful offering of my life, of my quickly lifted hands, of my interrupted prayers, of my small acts of ongoing, never ending service... may He use me, in all my imperfections and mistakes. May my life be a reflection of my faith. Because those little eyes are watching.
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This is beautifully written and so well said. I don't have any children of my own yet, but I've worked in day care centers, been a nanny, babysat...I've helped raise a lot of little ones. That their eyes are always watching is SO important to remember and to use that influence for God even more so. Thank you for the reminder!
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