Archive for October, 2009
reflection
I smiled. He smiled.
I laughed. He laughed.
Then I stubbed my toe getting up from the couch. And I scowled. He furrowed his brow.
Every day I am reminded that Jude is reading my expressions, searching my face for reactions and responses to the world around me. He is a kind of mirror, reflecting back the movements of my face and hands.
It’s truly amazing that in just four months he’s come so far. His development – the development of so many infants – is invigorating to watch.
And at the same time, it’s scary.
We’re having Jude baptized on Sunday and so much of the liturgy that Jason and I will speak reminds me that our lives are reflected in Jude’s life. In fact, one of the main reasons Anglicans baptize infants is to hold parents accountable. As Jason said in his brilliant post about Jude’s baptism, “I’ve come to believe that there is something very significant about being born into a family that truly follows Christ, even with all their faults and frailties. Our role in Jude’s life is a big part of the meaning of this baptism.”
Our role in Jude’s life…
What do I want that to look like? I know that I want mercy and grace, peace and truth, love and dignity to mark this little man. So do I exude those things? Am I compassionate? Am I truth-loving? Do I forgive well…or at all? Do I see the unsurpassable worth of every human being? Do I live a whole-istic life? How do I do love?
These are hard questions. Honest questions. Questions with on-going, messy, and scary answers. They are the questions that will continually remind me to walk worthy and renounce evil as I love my son. They are the questions that will help both Jude and me become beautiful reflections.
No Commentsemerging
These past several months have been an interesting road creatively speaking. With nothing more than stolen moments to write and think and reflect, the words and ideas I used to put together so quickly and easily have been traded out for the urgent and delicate hands-on labor of motherhood.
And this is good. I would give up everything to be Jude’s momma…without hesitation. But at the same time, it does my heart some good to know that, while I can never get back the solitude and carefreeness I once had, I do still have something to offer to the conversation. In fact, I would argue that I have infinitely more to offer as my heart has been expanded with love and grace and truth in these days of Jude.
That said, please check out Emerging Women’s site today. They posted an article of mine previously posted at KristaFinch.com, an article inspired by my little punkin’ pie.
This was my first step toward joining the conversation again. And the emerging has been good.
1 Commentpasserby: a new mom’s reality
I scanned the page of tweets, bleary-eyed and indifferent.
Relevant Magazine was linking to Obama’s Nobel acceptance speech.
Godgrrl was in California.
Donald Miller was in an interview.
Jimmy Fallon was answering to a feminist group.
I sighed and perked my ears to the white-noise-saturated room where Jude slept. Then I looked back to the Twitter page and something came over me. A strange loneliness and detachment. As I got reacquainted with my favorite Twitterers (is that a word?) in my first visit to the site in three months, I felt a little lost. The world had seemingly passed me by since Jude’s July birthday.
But somehow I didn’t mind so much. Because there’s something satisfying about pouring your life into someone so deeply that time and space and even tweets and twitters disappear for a while. It’s rare to be needed so greatly and, while those seasons are desperately challenging, they are also empowering and life-giving.
But as I closed my computer and went to check on Jude, there was also some small piece worth grieving. My life will never be the same again. And it’s not just the footloose-and-fancy-free-ness I’m grieving or the ability to simply get up and go whenever I want. There’s some element of Krista I can’t quite put my finger on that has had to die in order for me to love Jude. (Isn’t that what all true love requires of us…some death?)
But I can only grieve the lost piece for a moment. The second I put my hand on his chest, feeling his breath and his heart, I can’t say I miss it or even need to know what it is. Because whatever I’ve lost, whatever passes me by in all the days ahead, my love for Jude has exponentially filled.
And anyway, does it really matter if I know what Coldplay tweeted all summer?
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