Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Keep Talking

He will cover you and completely protect you with His pinions,
And under His wings you will find refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and a wall.

You will not be afraid of the terror of night,
Nor of the arrow that flies by day
Psalm 91:4-5

Having a new baby and getting anywhere on time seem like two north pole magnets facing each other: you can have one, but not the other. In order to get to our weekly Bible study on Tuesday mornings, I have to plan out our day backwards, starting and ending with nursing a wild bag of snakes. It also means that I get to the church quite a bit earlier than usual so I can check the kids in, nurse the little, and get to the study at a reasonable time.

Often times, it means getting there before anyone else is really ready for us. The first day we did this, we found ourselves walking down some very dark (and admittedly kinda creepy) hallways. Jminator dug his heels in. No way was he going down there; even when assured that his class and favorite playmates were on the other side. I think cognitively he totally understood what we were doing, but he was terrified.

I was a little spooked, too, to be honest. It was pitch black. I already had the noob so I couldn't carry him like I really wanted to. So I did the next best Mom thing: I got down on my knee and took his hand. I said as calmly and slowly as I could,
"Sweetheart, I know you can't see me. But take my hand. Keep talking to me, baby. I'm right here."
 We walked slowly; painfully slowly in some cases, but I let him set the pace as long as we were moving forward. I asked him about his classmates, if he was going to see his favorite teacher, if he was going to play on the slide. He responded in his usual, beautiful sing-song voice that only a two-year-old can have. He was very adamant about something, and was telling me all about his opinions on world peace and the upcoming election.

Gradually, his pace quickened. He was less afraid. He knew he was still with Momma even if he could see me. The long hallway gave way to a dark room (we actually both hit the glass door, but don't tell maintenance, please) But he knew what to do. He took my hand, and just started talking. I respond to let him know I'm listening, but rarely do I interrupt. He's feeling brave this time, and has no trouble finding his classroom

If this isn't a life metaphor, I don't know what is. How many times do we find ourselves in a dark hallway? Sometimes, it's a real one: a dark parking lot, or an unfamiliar part of a new town. Sometimes, it's my checkbook staring back at me or just being home alone when Hubs is out of town. I find myself just like that boy: heels dug in. It's not that I don't want to go where I need to, I'm just scared out of my mind. All the time, God is sitting there, down on one knee.
"I know you can't see me, sweetheart. I'm right here. Just take my hand, and keep talking."
 Experience tells me that God isn't going to carry me like I'd love for him to. I'm not a baby. I don't need to be spoon-fed. I just need the reassurance that I'm not alone. That I'm headed in the right direction because sometimes, I just can't see squat of what's in front of me.

Mommas, some days we're afraid. Don't be. Ever. Just take His hand, and keep talking!
 

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