babies of mine

By Mary

"From your head down to your toes, you're not much goodness knows, but you're so precious to me, sweet as can be, baby of mine." 

I sing snippets of these lyrics to the little ones in my house, sometimes as I marvel at their preciousness while my heart proclaims their perfection and sometimes in more of an effort to remind myself that no matter who's doing the screaming this time or why, they are just as precious. And really, they are sweet. I mean, don't ask me why I had to have a conversation with my almost 3 year old about licking people (maybe she hangs out with the dog too much?) And don't ask me why my little guy decides he can't be happy about anything after his afternoon nap unless someone will take him for a walk first. I'll never know.

I do know I want to be a visionary mommy, with eyes that see beyond temper tantrums and inconsolable baby moments and messy rooms and sleepless nights. I don't want to view my role as simply a management position, keeping everyone and everything organized and functioning. I try to remind myself to look for the heart of the matter, the heart of my child, and to not see a difficult moment as just something to get through but also something to use. And I hold my baby a few extra moments at night before I lay him in his bed and find rest in mine again, savor his head against my shoulder, my cheek against his hair.

I pray for them...that they would be excellent in what is good, innocent of evil. I pray Gianna won't outgrow her confidence, her loving and helpful spirit. I want her always to be able to accept that she's something special in the same easy, assured way, without vanity.

In the first weeks after my son was born, I'd hold his sweet tiny little self and just pray for that innocence in his darling little face, those trusting blue eyes. I don't know if it's just because I'm personally (obviously) less familiar with being a man in the world today than with the struggles women face, but there just seems to be so much out there ready to attack and hinder my little boy from being a real, strong, gentle man.

But while I can waste the days away worrying, it all comes back to the same thing: these precious-as-can-be babies of mine aren't mine. And there's two ways for my to view that. They are not mine to manage and train into something for my ease or enjoyment or quality of life. And they're not mine to save.

When I think of babies, it's easy for me to almost put them in the same category as puppies-lots of work but so cute and sweet and making life even more enjoyable. And I really find it so necessary to remind myself that this is how God brings each person into the world. His unique creation for His unique purposes. It awes me and humbles me. God doesn't just create grown people and place them around the world at the right moment for a specific task. Even His own Son came as a newborn. May I never be shortsighted and see the now as all there is--or the now as insignificant. And may I never take up the pattern of fear and worry by assuming the role of God. I hope rather to humbly seek Him on their behalf as their mommy...and let Him use me as He wills.