Christmas Beauty and Home

This week I've been reading a devotional based on Christmas carols (if you know me you know I love Christmas time!). Yesterday's was about being home for Christmas. Last week marked my return to my little apartment with my husband after being six weeks with my parents in a different town. It's funny how different these two places are, and yet both feel like home to me. 

I'm at home with my husband because this is where he is, and he's my closest friend. He knows me better than anyone else. Here is my cat who has been with me through all the ups and downs of grad school, teaching, moving a few times, and having a baby. Here is the little balcony with the little plants I like to care for. Here are all of the books, familiar friends, that have stayed with me even since childhood. 

I'm at home with my parents at their lovely house because, as you know, one is never too old to be welcomed and cared for as a daughter or son. My sister and I can always relate as we used to when we lived close to each other; our relationship is only richer with age. 

No matter where I am, where those home-cozy feelings wrap me up like a worn quilt, the place and feelings are only a tiny glimpse at the true home I have in heaven. Christ has made the way for me to be brought home to my Father as His own daughter, welcomed and cared for. My relationship with Him is based on all that Christ has done rather than my own failings (or successes!). What a home. 

At Christmas I always feel a deep longing that is difficult to express in words. It's something about the beauty of the trees, the lights, the eggnog and mulled cider, the cookies, the gifts, and the music. All of these evoke that sense of home that I know will be truly fulfilled when I get where I'm ultimately going. 

A Blazingly Honest Post-Partum Post

I've written a few posts since the birth of my daughter, and they've all been true in the sense that I have reflected on my circumstances and have tried to relate them to larger truths (specifically biblical truth). However, I don't usually gush forth with unfiltered emotions in my posts, and today I want to. Maybe a reader will relate to what I'm saying. Maybe not. In any case, I'm sure I'm not alone in having these feelings, whether most moms (most I know, anyway) have them, or talk about them, or do neither of these things. So, here it is: the honest truth about my feelings since my daughter's birth. It's about to get personal here!

Most of the time in the first few weeks after she was born, I was so tired and terrified I wanted everything to stop. Just stop. I wanted to go back to "normal" life from before the birth or even before pregnancy. I resented my baby sometimes. Sometimes I had fleeting thoughts of getting rid of her, through adoption or death. Those thoughts were scary! They'd always be followed by my rational mind reacting: What on earth are you thinking?! Stop that! But they occurred, nonetheless, though thankfully just a few times. Of course all of this made me feel terribly guilty as well.

I thought that I would adjust. After all, lots of moms have some form of "Baby Blues" in the first few weeks after giving birth. And I did adjust, somewhat. I got a little more rest, and I felt a bit more rational. But here we are, nearly five months later, and I still have many of those same feelings.

My thoughts on good days (which are the majority now) turn to how much I enjoy seeing her learning and growing and laughing. I imagine what she'll be like when she's 5, or 12, or 20. But I have bad days where I still want everything to stop, where I wish I could go back to "normal," and where I feel resentful of my baby. If my husband or family ask me to do something fun, I feel stressed. If they ask what I'd like to do to relax, I can only think of things that don't include my baby in the picture. It's like my emotions haven't caught up to the reality of my situation.

Time will help me catch up eventually, I'm sure. But then, there are things that I hate to bring myself to think of. I don't want to catch up to the reality in some cases. I just ignore these things because they bother me too much. For example, I don't feel the same way down there, and I wonder if I ever will again. Too much to think of. Too painful. Thoughts about that area bring back memories of giving birth, and I can't stand it.

So, there it is. I'm often wishing my life were different. I'm often waiting for "eventually." I realize that neither of those thought patterns is a very biblical perspective (except in the sense that I can and should set my hope on eternal things, things unseen). I'm not saying I have answers, or that I'm in a great place with this. I haven't figured it out, but I'm visiting my family for a six-week restorative time while my husband works around 15 hours a day at his job (aside: appreciation for military spouses and others who have to be separated from their loved ones for extended periods - it's hard!), and I'm seeing a counselor. I started reading Psalms, in no particular order. These things are helping, and I'm hopeful. Getting more sleep helps a lot.

Maybe you've had similar experiences or feelings, and I hope you might be encouraged just to hear my raw thoughts.

God's Unfailing Love

I listened to a sermon by Tim Keller the other evening called "Can a Mother Forget?" on a wonderful passage in Isaiah 49. In the passage, God asks if a nursing mother can forget her child. Of course the rhetorical question receives a "no" in response, but then God says that a mother will forget, but He will not forget. God's comparison of himself to a nursing mother asks us to draw out the similarities and the differences. Keller points out that the effect of using the metaphor is to get us to understand God's character better with not only our minds, but also our affections. Keller illustrates three ways that a mother is compelled to remember her child (and that God is compelled to remember us). 1: She is physically compelled by the milk production and demand system. She hurts if her baby doesn't nurse. 2: She is emotionally compelled by the hormones that are released during nursing. These hormones promote loving feelings for her baby. 3. These first two ways promote unconditional love: the mother loves her baby without getting anything in return. God, like the nursing mother, loves us because of his very nature. He loves us despite the fact that we give him nothing in return.

I've been pondering some other ways that God is like and unlike a nursing mother.

A nursing mother holds her child for as long as it takes to comfort that child. God holds his children and comforts them, too.

But a nursing mother gets tired. Her back and arms get sore after holding that baby. God never grows weary.

A nursing mother cherishes the sight of her sleeping baby. She knows her baby is getting much-needed restoration. God gives to his beloved in sleep.

But a nursing mother must herself sleep, too. She cannot always be present consciously to sustain her baby. God does not sleep or ever leave his children. He sustains them constantly.

A nursing mother delights in her child, happy to see the child growing and pleased when he or she reaches those important "milestones." God delights in his children, too, happy to see them flourishing.

But a mother cannot cause the most important types of growth. She helps facilitate them, yes, but she is not in control of the child's spiritual transformation. God actually promises to be at work in his children, causing the sanctification that he desires to take place.

I'm sure there are many, many more comparisons to be drawn from this passage. What similarities and differences can you think of? Be encouraged by God's unfailing love for you, stronger even than the love of a mother for her baby!