"The world's still the same, there's just less in it."
I used to dream of National Geographic scenes as a girl. You know, the vast rainforests of the Amazon and the wide desert sand dunes of the Sahara. The snowy Gobi with the elusive two humped camel and the open bush lands full of grazing zebra and giraffe. After Planet Earth was released, I was the happiest girl alive, the only thing better would have been to see it myself. But that doesn't happen, not in real life.
Except, it does happen. People research these places, photograph and film them. They visit these places and witness the wonder that is creation all the time! As a high school student I would get frustrated that none of my friends or family wanted to do any of the things I wanted to do. They would always have excuses; school, job, significant other. "Another time," they said, "Later," they said. That was never going to work for me.
By the time I finally found the courage - or stupidity - to leave on my own, my adventure was not about to be small. So many people told me I was crazy, jumping on a plane to South America alone as a young female with no real plan, no one to greet me as I stepped onto Peruvian soil. But the truth was that I had been crazy not to leave sooner. I wasn't running away to a savage land, I was escaping from a prison into a National Geographic fairytale.
Staring at my beautiful little boy lying next to me on the sofa, I want that for him. But I don't want him to wait nearly as long as I did. I want him to laugh at those who tell him he's crazy and point out that they are merely afraid of what they don't understand, of what is unfamiliar. I want my son to be sure of himself as others doubt him. Watching him wide eyed and already so curious and alert, I know he will surpass all my hopes and dreams for him and accomplish his own.
It's funny, even at my most rebelious, my faith in God never faltered. I struggled with many aspects of the church and doctrine in the Bible, but never with the existence of God or the validity of His story. That being said, I only truly rely on Him when I feel incapable. Though, in reality, I am never capable on my own and should always depend on Christ. I see this so perfectly laid out with my son. I was so sure I could do natural child birth because I was created for it and women have been doing it for thousands of years. But never because I believed God would help me through it. Then it was difficult and I remember so clearly the moment I thought to myself, "I cannot do this." Not that I wanted drugs or a c-section, simply that I was not capable. I didn't even think to ask God for help and still he provided it. From that point where I admitted my inability, labor was quick and easy. It was still painful and hard work, but it was no longer a struggle and I was suddenly unconcerned with whether or not I was capable.
Last night, Rory decided that he did not, under any circumstance, want to sleep in his hammock. He did not want to be by himself and would punish anyone - namely me - who attempted to leave him on his own with tears and cries to wake the dead. Everything is more difficult at night. Probably because it's dark and you're tired and uncoordinated, and everything is simply more apt to fall to pieces. And oh, I did. I fell to pieces. I just knew I had screwed up and I couldn't actually do this, I wasn't fit to be a mother and I had imagined myself to be better at taking care of children than I actually was. "I cannot do this." was my thought for the second time. But this round, I did call on God for help. I think my exact prayer was for strength, right before I burst into tears. Did Rory suddenly sleep through the night? Nope. He was just as fussy and demanding as he had been all evening. But Mark suddenly woke up and let Rory sleep on his chest for just two hours before the little one got hungry again and I has those two whole hours for devoted me-sleep. When I woke up, I was still exhausted and uncoordinated and it was still dark, but I trusted God to give me just enough to get me through.
I think more often than not, God uses the things we consider strengths to show us how weak we actually are. And He demands we use our weakness in serving Him. I consider childcare a strength and God has already proved my weakness in that as he demands continued patience from me, a violent weak point in me. Patience during pregnancy, patience with advice givers, patience with my son at three in the morning, patience with my husband when he leaves clothes around the house, patience with myself as I go through emotional and physical turmoil, patience with God as He reveals (and doesn't reveal) His plan to me. Oh patience, how you thwart me.
I love the story of Moses. He is such a wonderful example of God showing weakness where we believe our strengths to be and using weaknesses to reveal strength. Moses continually questions God, but God works through him regardless. Christians so often ask that we have it all together - or, at least, look like we have it all together and never question what we don't understand or don't like. "Fake it 'til you make it" is the popular phrase. I call bullshit. Stories you find in the Bible are not about people who fake it. Moses, for instance, was a murderer and very consistently tells God "Nope." But God uses him anyway. There is a moment in Exodus where Moses goes into the "thick darkness" to meet God. I like that. I like the idea that God isn't always found in the bright light, but through the thick darkness. You simply have to seek him in that thick darkness. It doesn't mean you will just suck whatever you're feeling up. It might be joy and contentment. But it also might mean confusion and questions, it might mean betrayal and anger. You hash it out with your Creator, walking through thick darkness.
My thick darkness is 4AM when my son decides he doesn't want to sleep in his hammock, but with Mark and I. My thick darkness is not having the time and being too exhausted to effectively communicate with my husband, which leads to lots and lots of miscommunication. My thick darkness is my frustration with the political slow process of becoming a missionary. My thick darkness is people not understanding that unless I say it's okay? Do not try to touch, hold, or walk away with my new son. My thick darkness is my paralyzing insecurity about my body postpartum. But in that thick darkness I witness God using my supposed strengths to teach me lessons and my weakness to accomplish great things. In that thick darkness I find Him.
Except, it does happen. People research these places, photograph and film them. They visit these places and witness the wonder that is creation all the time! As a high school student I would get frustrated that none of my friends or family wanted to do any of the things I wanted to do. They would always have excuses; school, job, significant other. "Another time," they said, "Later," they said. That was never going to work for me.
By the time I finally found the courage - or stupidity - to leave on my own, my adventure was not about to be small. So many people told me I was crazy, jumping on a plane to South America alone as a young female with no real plan, no one to greet me as I stepped onto Peruvian soil. But the truth was that I had been crazy not to leave sooner. I wasn't running away to a savage land, I was escaping from a prison into a National Geographic fairytale.
Staring at my beautiful little boy lying next to me on the sofa, I want that for him. But I don't want him to wait nearly as long as I did. I want him to laugh at those who tell him he's crazy and point out that they are merely afraid of what they don't understand, of what is unfamiliar. I want my son to be sure of himself as others doubt him. Watching him wide eyed and already so curious and alert, I know he will surpass all my hopes and dreams for him and accomplish his own.
My darling boy
It's funny, even at my most rebelious, my faith in God never faltered. I struggled with many aspects of the church and doctrine in the Bible, but never with the existence of God or the validity of His story. That being said, I only truly rely on Him when I feel incapable. Though, in reality, I am never capable on my own and should always depend on Christ. I see this so perfectly laid out with my son. I was so sure I could do natural child birth because I was created for it and women have been doing it for thousands of years. But never because I believed God would help me through it. Then it was difficult and I remember so clearly the moment I thought to myself, "I cannot do this." Not that I wanted drugs or a c-section, simply that I was not capable. I didn't even think to ask God for help and still he provided it. From that point where I admitted my inability, labor was quick and easy. It was still painful and hard work, but it was no longer a struggle and I was suddenly unconcerned with whether or not I was capable.
Last night, Rory decided that he did not, under any circumstance, want to sleep in his hammock. He did not want to be by himself and would punish anyone - namely me - who attempted to leave him on his own with tears and cries to wake the dead. Everything is more difficult at night. Probably because it's dark and you're tired and uncoordinated, and everything is simply more apt to fall to pieces. And oh, I did. I fell to pieces. I just knew I had screwed up and I couldn't actually do this, I wasn't fit to be a mother and I had imagined myself to be better at taking care of children than I actually was. "I cannot do this." was my thought for the second time. But this round, I did call on God for help. I think my exact prayer was for strength, right before I burst into tears. Did Rory suddenly sleep through the night? Nope. He was just as fussy and demanding as he had been all evening. But Mark suddenly woke up and let Rory sleep on his chest for just two hours before the little one got hungry again and I has those two whole hours for devoted me-sleep. When I woke up, I was still exhausted and uncoordinated and it was still dark, but I trusted God to give me just enough to get me through.
I think more often than not, God uses the things we consider strengths to show us how weak we actually are. And He demands we use our weakness in serving Him. I consider childcare a strength and God has already proved my weakness in that as he demands continued patience from me, a violent weak point in me. Patience during pregnancy, patience with advice givers, patience with my son at three in the morning, patience with my husband when he leaves clothes around the house, patience with myself as I go through emotional and physical turmoil, patience with God as He reveals (and doesn't reveal) His plan to me. Oh patience, how you thwart me.
I love the story of Moses. He is such a wonderful example of God showing weakness where we believe our strengths to be and using weaknesses to reveal strength. Moses continually questions God, but God works through him regardless. Christians so often ask that we have it all together - or, at least, look like we have it all together and never question what we don't understand or don't like. "Fake it 'til you make it" is the popular phrase. I call bullshit. Stories you find in the Bible are not about people who fake it. Moses, for instance, was a murderer and very consistently tells God "Nope." But God uses him anyway. There is a moment in Exodus where Moses goes into the "thick darkness" to meet God. I like that. I like the idea that God isn't always found in the bright light, but through the thick darkness. You simply have to seek him in that thick darkness. It doesn't mean you will just suck whatever you're feeling up. It might be joy and contentment. But it also might mean confusion and questions, it might mean betrayal and anger. You hash it out with your Creator, walking through thick darkness.
My thick darkness is 4AM when my son decides he doesn't want to sleep in his hammock, but with Mark and I. My thick darkness is not having the time and being too exhausted to effectively communicate with my husband, which leads to lots and lots of miscommunication. My thick darkness is my frustration with the political slow process of becoming a missionary. My thick darkness is people not understanding that unless I say it's okay? Do not try to touch, hold, or walk away with my new son. My thick darkness is my paralyzing insecurity about my body postpartum. But in that thick darkness I witness God using my supposed strengths to teach me lessons and my weakness to accomplish great things. In that thick darkness I find Him.
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