On Fear and Parenting

Today we celebrated Lensbaby's fifth birthday.  Lensbaby is the name of the mom-tographers group I'm a part of.  They are responsible for many, many of the photo ops from which I've posted pictures in the last year and a half. 

We celebrated at a splash park in a neighboring city.  

 

This splash park used to give me such intense anxiety before I had 3 kids.  

 

I felt certain that if I looked down at my camera for even a second, someone would snatch one of my kids and be gone before I looked back up. 

It is truly remarkable how quickly your mind can recall every Lifetime Original movie about kidnapping, replaying them instantly in your mind merely seconds after you realize your kid is not where you thought he/she would be.

It is not my mind's most helpful skill.

But I was realizing today that I didn't feel that way -- or at least, not nearly as much as before.

Of course my awareness is heightened in a park like this -- open to anybody, no fence, with a few dozen kids and a parking lot very close by.  How could it not be. 

But what surprised me was the lack of paralyzing fear about it.  

 

The kids play together.  They stay close together, and pretty close to me.  They are, at least for now, a cohesive little group.

I don't know if it was that, or the fact that I have had to let go of some control issues over the past year, having three kids.  

There are personal limitations I just have to acknowledge on a daily basis.  I cannot get them all the sippy cup they want at the moment they want it.

 

I can't spare them the despair suffered while waiting for a turn with whatever plastic toy is the darling of the day.

 

I can't hold all three of them when they're all three upset or hurting at the exact same moment.  

But that's ok.  I have begun to accept it -- this helplessness every parent has to come to terms with during child-rearing.  You cannot control every circumstance all the time.  

Heck, you can't even control every circumstance some of the time.  

Yet, the kids are ok.  The momentary despair they experience on a day-to-day basis doesn't destroy them.

And despite my trying my very hardest to care for their every need, my limitations are real--and the kids are not destroyed by those either.

It's as if they're in someone else's hands altogether.

Someone bigger than me, whose love and power is not limited and whose patience is never exhausted.

It's as if they're safe.  And a peace that passes understanding is with me.

While I snap photos of my three precious babies. In this splash park with no fence.

Tree-lit Anticipation of Christmas Morning

We are still figuring out this whole "Santa" thing.  Christmas is one of the most important Christian holidays, because it's the time we celebrate Jesus' birth.  I'm well aware that Jesus' actual birth likely occurred during the spring, and that the origins of the Christmas holiday as we experience it likely had more to do with pagan traditions than Christian ones. 



It's very awkward, in my opinion, to somehow try and "split" the holiday between Santa and Jesus.  And I'm uncomfortable with the idea of perpetuating a belief in a non-existent being... when I actually am asking my children to put their faith in an unseen being. 



But I don't want to make a big deal about "the man in red," and I certainly do not want our kids telling other kids the hard facts about his non-existence. 



I determined that this year I would check out some books from the library on St. Nick, and we could celebrate the goodness of him, instead. 



But I couldn't find any of those books during my quick three-kid-accompanied trip to the library, and I forgot to find one online.  So... maybe next year.



All that to say... I found Christmas Eve in front of the tree to be a bit anti-climactic.  There were the gifts, ready to be opened in the morning.  There were the kids, not quite "getting" it.  And it occurred to me that we are still, even 3 1/2 years in, still figuring out who we are as a family unit. 


We are still adding munchkins, and the oldest isn't really a "big kid" yet.  We are in this weird, in-between stage... or maybe not even in-between.  We are still in the baby stage -- "diaper valley" -- but we have one talking.  And one close behind. 
 

And I'm just marveling that there is so much yet to be determined in our family, where Daniel and I are the parents and Lucy is the oldest, and we don't even know who will be the youngest.  It is a strange phase of life. 

Fast Friends

I wish it were as easy to make adult friends as it used to be to make kid friends.  It was amazingly easy.  Do you remember?



We met this little girl at the park this morning.  Her name is Lily, and her family is going to move overseas soon.  But that didn't matter to her or Lucy or Elliot.



They were friends within seconds, laughing and chasing and playing together.



Her mom was nice and easy to talk to.  If only she weren't about to move overseas... we could be friends.



I hate how I make conditions like this now.  I didn't, when I was a kid.  I think becoming child like in this area looks like putting yourself out there to be friends with someone.  Even if you can think of conditions hat haven't been met or compatibilities you wish were there, but aren't.
 

Jesus called his disciples "friends" even though they didn't "get" him or the point of his ministry and didn't stand by him at the end.  I think this is something God is teaching me about. Friends. 

Playing With Water, Time, and Eternity

Remember how Lucy used to love playing with water?  I mean, really -- what kid doesn't like playing with water. 



But I remember she used to stand at the sink for as long as I'd let her, pouring water from cup to cup.  For whatever reason, the other day, she decided she wanted to play in the sink again.  And she was having such fun and was so still, and the light was so pretty. 




So I got out my camera and quickly got the random appliances off the counter. 



And then, just for fun--I looked back through the blog and found the photos from exactly a year ago.  And oh. my. word.  I cannot believe how much bigger she is now!!  It has only been a year.

I was reminded of a C.S. Lewis quote the other day. 

For we are so little reconciled to time that we are even astonished at it.  “How he’s grown!”, we exclaim “How time flies!” as though the universal form of our experience were again and again a novelty.  It is as strange as if a fish were repeatedly surprised at the wetness of water.  And that would be strange indeed; unless of course the fish were destined one day to become, one day, a land animal.

I think that's true. Maybe we are continually surprised by the passage of time because we were made for eternity -- for a timeless Being.



That being said -- I am glad and grateful to be in this temporary slice of the time/space continuum.  With Lucy.  And with Elliot and Daniel. And we are so anxious to meet #3.  And even though Lucy has grown so much in the past year -- I am holding the terror of it in the same hand as the gladness. 



I can't hold on to the baby years... or any years.  "Letting" them pass is trusting that God will be enough in the next chapter in our lives, and the next chapter after that.  Until the years are all used up and we can finally go home.



But for now, I'm glad to take this chapter one day at a time.  

Something Hatched

Look what we found in the front yard today!  Something somewhere hatched.  A new little bird somewhere is being protected, fed, and taught.  And God knew what the bird would look like before it hatched, and He knows where it is now. 



And how much more does He care for each one of His children.  Something about the smallness of this egg testifies to the bigness of God and His sovereignty.  I have doubted that God is really in control. 



And even if I entertained the notion that He was in control, I've doubted that he's good.  But I'm beginning to believe--maybe for the first time in my life--that He actually really is good and that He knows what he's doing--that he's in control and that I'm safe in His hands, no matter what happens. 



There is a softening in my heart--a yielding--that I can't take credit for.  How did He accomplish that?  For the first time, the fear that has inhabited my heart has a competitor, and it's Peace.