Holding the Baby Who Holds Us

Taking a newborn baby out of a car seat is one of the most nerve wracking activities on the face of this green earth. You unbuckle the sometimes bafflingly complex mechanism, gently pull each of baby's arms out from under its strap. You slide a hand under baby's head, the other under his tiny little bottom, and gently lift. The baby feels surprisingly heavy in your hands, given how little he actually weighs. He is utterly and completely relaxed - weak and vulnerable - and you have every bit of him in your hands. You quickly bring him right to you, resting his small, warm, helpless body against yours.

And you breathe.

You hold that baby so close. You press your lips to his soft cheek ever so softly. You wrap his little hand around just the tip of one of your fingers. You bend your head low over his, whispering sweet nothings to him as you gently rock him.

All of your being wants to protect, care for, and love this sweet creature. He is completely vulnerable and helpless, entirely dependent on others for all comforts, and even for basic survival. In spite of the huge responsibility, this great task of caring for him - for however long or in whatever capacity it might be - there is always that deep peace.

You hold that baby and your heart melts. You melt. Your world slows down and reorients to revolve around this seven pound being, this seven pound creature made in the image of your great God. Everything, quite suddenly, quite gently and subtly, so you aren't even aware of the change, is all going to be ok.

You're going to be ok.

You hold that baby close - that screaming baby, sleeping baby, cooing baby - and all that matters is love.

Even in the tired moments, the frazzled moments, the beyond exhaustion moments, it's all still solidly, steadily, surely a moment of love - by Love for Love.

A long time ago - yet not so long ago - there was a young wife, far from home, who had a baby boy in a stable. Through her free and beautiful and peaceful fiat, we were given a Savior. And how did God choose to save us? Not through a thunder clap and lightning flash, appearing in majesty. No, He came as a baby born of a spotless virgin mother.

Kneel at the foot of that manger. Scoop that baby right up to you and hold Him.

And breathe.

Let that peace take hold of your heart.

Let your heart melt as you hold Him close.

Hold that vulnerable, dependent God-made-man. Smell his little head. Kiss his soft cheek. Count his fingers. Marvel at his perfect little fingernails.

Hold that baby. That peace, that calm, that joy beyond words?

Let that hold you.

Let Him hold you.

That baby bundled in your arms - His human nature veiling the majesty of His Divine Personhood - is holding you.

He's holding you: your fears, your hopes, your loves, your sins, all of you. And as you whisper how much you love Him, He whispers back - I love you more.

The God who holds it all in His hands came down and let Himself be held in our hands.

The Creator in the hands of the created. The Holder of Everything being held by a small someone.

He came back for you. He is your Prince Charming, riding in quietly and gently, to steal you away to your perfect Happily Forever After. He did it all for love... He did it all for you.

And He entered the scene as a baby boy. A baby born to save the world.

Scoop Him up, hold Him close, let your heart melt, still & quiet.

It's all going to be ok.

You're going to be ok.

He came down to get you.

He loved you into being. And when you fell? He came down to scoop you up. To hold you close. To love you boundlessly.

To give you peace beyond measure.

Be still and know that He's God... and He's got this. He's got you.

He's here to hold you. And He's here to stay.  

You're going to be ok.

Lightening It Up

The past couple, few, several posts have been very serious, solemn, and emotionally charged. They make me seem so... I dunno... serious. I don't take myself that seriously. I spend 98% of my life laughing at myself and the stupid things I do or say. So this post is going to be a little-list-like update on what's been going on in my life, which isn't as solemn or well-thought out as recent blog posts might indicate.

So...

* Current TV crush? Well, I'm glad you asked. He is the man who established my irrevocable crush on & love of all British men. I met him as Horatio Hornblower, but now he's on my television weekly as Dr. Henry Morgan in "Forever." Ioan Gruffudd is a Welshman who has had my heart for 15 years now. Everybody, swoon with me.

* Agents of SHIELD is back on my television. Super fun, super good, super super duper awesome! Skye's bangs and Ward's beard have their own twitter pages now, so that's a thing. Tuesdays at 8, people! The must-see part of this season though has been the stellar performance of Iain DeCaestecker as Fitz. Every scene with him makes me cry. That actor delivers the emotional punch in every. single. scene.

* I know I'm on a television kick here, but there's just one more that I have to mention. That's it, I promise. What is this must-mention show? Gotham. I wasn't totally on board after the pilot episode, but BEN McKENZIE. Episode 2 was solid and in episode 3 they really hit their stride. And their stride? It's fantastic & awesome. It's a quirky show, pretty dark for an eight o'clock time slot, but incredibly comic-book like, so that makes it somehow more ok...? I think. Still dark, not good for small children, but a fun ride. I'm excited to see where they take it!

* My children will have to eat apples with the skin on. Or, I will have to only use really dull knives. I was babysitting on Saturday and the kids wanted apple slices with the skin peeled off. We don't have sharp knives at my house home, so when I used a knife there that sliced right through my own skin at the lightest pressure, I was a bit shocked. There was a bit of blood, but mostly shock & the realization that my future children will only eat apples with the skin on them or their mum will have some serious cumulative blood loss.

* Speaking of children, one of my besties is having a baby in April. I haven't stopped being giddy about that yet. I love it when my friends have babies and right now everybody is having babies, so I have so many reasons to be happy.

* Aaaaand on the topic of being happy, I had another excellent surprise yesterday when I got to see my wonderful, fantastic, awesome physical therapist from 10 years ago. It was so wonderful to see her and have the chance to catch up! Since I'm all old now (being an adult has its privileges), we can be friends! It is going to be great.

* Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" is the perfect song for chicken dancing. That is all.

* You know you're an adult when you happily eat nonfat yogurt for dessert. Weirdly, sadly true.

* I've been baking a lot of squash. A lot of squash. Who knew it could be so much fun? It really is that much fun. Baking it in chunks, roasting it with garlic, mashing it with brown sugar, baking it with oatmeal... the possibilities are seemingly endless! And perfectly delicious.

Happy Monday, guys.

Sweet Baby Things

I found out that my dear friend had a baby girl. 

In response, I sewed and sewed and sewed and SEWED!!!!

This is the end result:

Just waiting on an address! :)

BABY!!!

Thaaaat's right, folks! My dear, dear, dear friends had their first child today!!! A little boy. I am distracted with happiness. I cannot stop GRINNING. I'm "Auntie Bagel." HA! I am so excited and happy for them!!!!!!

Welcome to the world, Daniel!!!

"You're Just a Baby"

It's the most-oft repeated phrase I hear at work. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day. It's come up in different contexts:

him: "When did you graduate?"
me: "May."
him: "Oh, well then, you're just a baby."

me: "You need to go to the emergency room. You hit your head really hard."
her: "How would you know? You're just a baby."
me: "I may be a baby, but I've had six concussions."
her: "How does a baby get six concussions? There hasn't been enough time."

At first, I just found this funny. I'm not a baby. I graduated from college. People keep telling me how grown up I am. Then it hit me: no one tells real grown ups that. "Oh, it's nice to see you. Look how grown up you are, turning 40 and sending your kids to college."

Being at college, particularly a small, private school, where almost everyone is between 18 and 22, you tend to think of the upperclassmen as old and mature. "Oh, they're so smart and mature because they're a senior. They're 22." In that little bubble, since no one is older than that aside from the faculty and staff, who don't really even count as human beings, you tend to over mature the 22 year olds in your mind.

22? Not that old.

Not that this should be an excuse to be immature and irresponsible. College graduates are supposed to act like adults. The key word in that sentence, however, may be "act." We... well, I... don't really know how to do this. It's sort of like playing follow the leader. Some day we'll figure out how to do this on our own. We'll have acquired experience and be able to give good advice to others. Right now? It's ok if we're a bit confused. After all... we're just babies.