Learning to let go

Recently I've been reading about the Sabbath.  Essentially taking time out from how you normally spend life so you can be still, focus on God and remember that the universe does not revolve around you.  This is not an easy thing to do as a mummy.  Yet even when I'm offered a chance to take time out, I still find it hard to let go.  I keep checking that my husband is doing things in the 'right' way with our son.

But then I read this: 'Sabbath keeping s a publicly enacted sign of our trust that God keeps the world, therefore we don't have to... If even God trusted creation enough to be confident that the world would continue while God rested, so should we.' Eugene Peterson

When my husband cares for our son, I often have an internal dialogue something like this:

"Does it really matter if our son goes out in an outfit consisting entirely of beige clothes?  No.

Will he survive for one day on a breakfast consisting of Weetabix made with too much/too little/no milk?  Yes.

Do I need to check every single nappy that my husband puts on our son?  No.  We own a washing machine."

It's important that I care for my son in the best possible way I can, but it's also important to remember that the universe doesn't revolve around me.  God's in charge.  And remembering that - through Sabbath moments -  is a great relief.

Placement

Being a mummy is not usually about fast paced excitement or glamour.  And I struggle with that.  The weekly routine of play groups, chores and clearing up food.  It's easy to want to be somewhere else.  For me that's usually anywhere by myself with a good book.

Recently I read the story of the 4th century Bishop, Gregory of Nyssa.  His older brother Basil (himself a Bishop) arranged for Gregory to become Bishop of Nyssa and Gregory was not impressed.  It was an unimportant and obscure place.  Gregory wanted glamour and prestige.  Basil, however, told Gregory that he didn't want him to obtain distinction from his church but rather confer distinction upon it.  As Eugene Peterson writes, 'Gregory went where he was placed... [and] The preaching and writing that he did in that backwater community continues its invigorating influence to this day.' (Christ plays in Ten Thousand Places).

My home and the playgroups we attend are where I have been placed.  My choice is whether I merely tolerate them, or transform them into places where God is working and where I am being changed.

Emotions

I've always been an emotional person.  Tears come easily, as does laughter.  I'd like to say that pregnancy and motherhood changed that, but I'd be lying.  It is scary how quickly I can change.    This morning, for example, I woke up with a cold.  Nothing that serious, but serious enough to make me pull the covers over my head and wish I could pull a duvet day.  My husband very sweetly went and got our son up and gave him his milk.  Despite that I had managed, within the space of about 10 minutes, to start a row which ended with the line, 'I just don't feel like you love me'.  Cue tears.  Irrational, unwarranted and far too emotional.

In an effort to combat my emotionalism I've just finished an amazing book called 'Living beyond your feelings: controlling emotions so they don't control you' by Joyce Meyer.  It is awesome and now full of lots of pen marks (I used to underline in pencil so I could rub it out... but after years of doing this I never rubbed the lines out so I thought I'd be a bit rebellious and underline in pen.  Just one of the ways I'm living on the edge.  But I digress.).  There s a lot of wisdom in this book - too much for one post - but here's a few of the things I've taken and am trying to do in order to be slightly less emotion-led.

1.  Meyer defines wisdom as 'doing now what you will be satisfied with later on'.  Starting (or finishing) an argument may seem satisfying.  And I may make my point.  But I'll later regret it.  So I'm trying to focus on how future-Bekah will have wanted to have acted.

2.  When David wrote, 'This is the day, I will rejoice and be glad in it' he was making a conscious decision.  He didn't get up and wait to see how he felt.  He decided - irrespective of circumstance - that he was going to rejoice in the Lord.  An early baby-related wake up call is usually followed by day in which I spend a lot of time complaining.  But I have a choice. I can rejoice.

3.  Refusing to let my emotions dictate my day is Hard Work.  But I have made a choice to walk the narrow way which leads to life.  The Amplified Bible puts this verse from Matthew 7 as 'narrow [contracted by pressure]'.  I will experience a lot of pressure when I attempt this, but it's the way Jesus went.  He didn't let his fear or apprehension about the cross sway him from walking that path.  And it's in His footsteps that I am attempting to follow.

Keep going...

My son is currently learning to crawl.  Some days he seems quite keen on the idea and he'll stretch and lunge and push himself up on his knees and really put in effort.  Other days he's not so fussed about the whole thing, and he'll happily just sit and watch the world (or his musical ball) roll by.

I spend a lot of my day saying encouraging things and moving his toys just slightly out of reach.  I'm so proud when he tries.  "Keep going!", seems to be a natural phrase.  Along with, "Well done!  Who's my clever boy?"

I love that he's trying and I don't expect it him to master crawling overnight.  Nor is my love for him dependant on how hard he tries or whether he will ever accomplish it.

This sounds like a ludicrous statement, and yet all too often I treat God as though he were a perpetually disappointed parent.  The feeling of guilt when I mess up comes far too readily.

Yes it hurts God when we sin.  Yes, he wants to grow in spiritual maturity and make the right decisions.  And yes, we should never abuse his grace.

However, God is immensely proud of us.  Of our growth and desire to change.  And his love for us is not dependant on how much progress we're making spiritually.  He's there saying, "Keep going!' and "You're doing brilliantly - daddy is so proud of you!".

Provision

'The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need.' Psalm 23:l

Today I have needed patience, energy, wisdom, patience, generosity, joy, compassion, selflessness and did I mention patience?

God had everything I needed.  Shame I didn't always make a withdrawal from the immeasurably vast bank of his resources...  Thankfully he also has all the forgiveness and grace I need as I finish today and look forward with hope to tomorrow.

Job Titles

I suspect that growing up, Moses didn't imagine he'd become a shepherd.  He was educated, wealthy and had great connections.  A career in politics maybe, or ruler of a small province.  Instead he found himself on the run, living in a foreign land and tending sheep.  Not glamorous.  Not somebody.  And not what he expected.

When he encounters God in the burning bush, God asks him what he's carrying.  "A shepherd's staff", Moses replies (probably rolling his eyes).

Yet several verses later (Exodus 4:20 to be precise) this same staff is described as 'the staff of God'.

What happened?  The staff was still the same.  But Moses wasn't.  He'd met God.  He'd been transformed.  Yes he was still nervous and terrified of public speaking, but his life had a new direction. He was still going to be a shepherd, but this time he'd be shepherding people.  God's people.  On a mission that would take him the rest of his life.

I regularly get asked what I do.  Most people are incredibly enthusiastic when I reply that I'm now a full-time mummy (not that there are any other types - I just don't have a paid job on top).  But inside a little part of me wishes that sounded a bit more glamorous or exciting.  I don't wear heels and a suit.  I don't have business meetings.  I don't own a blackberry.

But I wonder how I'd feel if I saw my role through God's eyes.  How would I answer the question 'What do you do?'?

Imparter of Spiritual Truth?  Guide?  Role model for the God of the Universe?

Put like that, I'm somebody rather important!

Changes

One of the most stressful things I find about having a baby is that they are always changing.  Just when you think you've finally got this parenting stuff sorted, a routine in place and your weekly activities chosen, your little cherub goes and decides that he in fact now doesn't like broccoli.  Or actually wants to wake at 3am for a chat.  Or now hates creche (why? why?!  When he'd previously loved it!).

Our current saga (and I use the word intentionally for with children it seems like everything gains epic proportions) is nap time.  Until a week ago my baby was good at nap time.  One at 9.30 - 10 and another after lunch for an hour.  A blissful hour of me time (and by this I mean getting all the jobs done that I previously hadn't managed to).  Now, however, he has decided that an hour is far too long. 20 minutes will, in fact, suffice.  Which results in mummy getting disproportionately stressed.

Two days ago I read the story of the wise king who called his counsellors together and challenged them to summarise all the wisdom of the world into a single sentence.  After much thought they came back with: This too shall pass.

In between nappy changes and feeds I've been pondering that statement and have concluded that it is very wise.  It gives perspective.  And a timely reminder that all too soon my cherub will be taller than me, the owner of a mobile and probably sleeping far too much for my liking.  And so I've been trying to adapt.  And relish the extended time I now have with my boy.  For surely, all too quickly, this too shall pass.