Held

Tonight I'm sitting here scrolling through pictures taken over the past several months as my older boys watch a movie with their daddy downstairs much too late into the night.  Wow, what a year!  I'm guessing most of you who are reading this probably feel the same way if you've had time to reflect on your year like I have been doing.  I seem to have plenty of time to reflect these days since I often find myself sitting while nursing a baby...and there is so much to take in and process.  The past 18 months in our family have been quite a roller coaster ride.  Plenty of highs, plenty of lows.  I would've never guessed then how things would be now.  But as I look through my pictures, there are a few that stand out as I've been mulling over a word that stays constant despite all of life's changes.  It is a word that takes on special meaning again as we have a new little one in our house. 

Held.

That is what I am, what we are.  Through the ups.  Through the downs.  Even through the mundane days where it seems like I'm going nowhere.  I'm held. 

There are many attributes of God that He is that we are not--that we will never be.  But then there are some attributes of God that He inscribes in us so that we will be like Him and begin to understand Who He is, although in a very broken and imperfect way.  One of the ways that He has so captured my heart these past few years, and especially these past several weeks with another newborn in our home, is that He invites us into a Father-Child relationship with Him.  That Infinite, that Holy, that Almighty God has through His Son become the Intimate Father--who in Scripture actually invites us to cry out to Him as "Daddy".  I never really grasped that kind of crazy love until I became a parent, a mommy.  And I continue to be amazed by it as I watch my husband be a father--a daddy.  A daddy to 7 beautiful, unique, loud, obnoxious, fun, crazy, messy, demanding kids who take off with our hearts every day, both in ways that thrill us--and in ways that bring us desperately to our knees.  Now I realize that every Dad on this earth is imperfect.  In fact, a few Dads have really made quite a mess of their role as Dad.  But one of the truths of God that I am grasping more and more is this:  He is my Father, my Daddy. And He is Perfect and Good, unlike any earthly dad could ever be.  He holds me.  He holds our family.  He holds each of my children.  The ups, the downs, the times when I don't understand, the times when I feel lonely or scared...in all of it, whether I feel Him there or not, I am held. 

Here is one of my favorite pictures that I keep coming back to, one of many, many of the same shot that I have taken over the last almost 15 years...and I believe it captures the heart of God.  A daddy.  A child.  Held.

 

A friend told me recently that it doesn't matter how big or small my babies are, they all seem tiny when my husband holds them. That's because my husband is a big guy.  Whether my baby clocks in at birth just under 7 pounds or nearly 10, they all look small with a Daddy who stands 6 foot 6.   My husband is big, strong-- he's pretty intelligent, and has plenty of stuff going on in his life.  But he would tell you that more important than just about anything he is or does is this--he's a daddy.  He adores his kids, and those of you who know him well know of the stories of how fiercely protective he is of them.  So while he is by no means God, he has been a snapshot for me of what God wants us to know of Him--a Father, a Daddy.  And even though I'm 39-years-old with a few more gray hairs than I care to admit, I am every bit as much His child as my sweet 3-month old baby is his daddy's son.  And I fit in His infinite hands, nuzzled up on His chest just as much as my little guy does with his daddy.  This is where I find rest--if I will only just abide there. 

 

When Joseph was diagnosed with his blindness, I realized something more about this Father who holds.  Joseph is a baby, he had no idea or understanding of his condition or of some of the difficult days ahead.  But his daddy and I did.  And so we held him.  I would hardly put him down those first days home.  Yes, newborns are held quite a bit.  But I would venture to guess Joseph was held more.  Yes, there were plenty of hands to help and to hold him those first days, but in my heart, only mine or his daddy's would do.  I know that God uses people to be his hands and feet--to comfort, to work, to help, to encourage.  When I went through my first miscarriage, I felt God's comfort and Presence through those He put around me to walk me through some pretty difficult days.  But there are also times when He chooses not to use others because He wants to be that direct source of everything we need Himself.  Often, I perceive those times initially as very lonely times.  But I realized that first week of holding Joseph, keeping him close to me every moment that I could, that those times I'm feeling alone or scared are the very times He is holding me closer than ever.  That He really knows more than I will ever know, and I am really just like my infant son--hardly aware of the why's and what's, but held ever so tightly in the arms of the WHO who knows everything.  Fiercely loved.  Fiercely protected.  So why in the world would I ever thrash around, grasping for straws, trying to leave the grip of One so faithful, so good, so full of a perfect Father's love?  Who knows, but I often do! 

 

I wish instead I would live in this truth with every moment that I breathe. It's easy to be there when the waters are calm.  But when the storms of life roll in, when the waves come up high around the boat of my life, I struggle to rest in that place of being held.  And instead of trusting and resting, I find myself asking...Doesn't He know?  Doesn't He care?

 

Last week, as we are in the thick of trying to find a new normal around here with a newborn that requires more care than we have dealt with before, I had a day where I snapped.  It wasn't pretty, everyone went running for cover.  Later that night, I checked out in front of a movie with my husband.  The plot of the movie was of a man trying to rescue his wife who had been kidnapped.  When it was over, my emotions had settled from the stresses of the day.  I turned to Dan and said, "I bet if I were kidnapped tonight, you probably wouldn't want to come after me, huh?"  Always counting on my husband to shoot it straight, that man of mine replied with a grin, "Babe, I wouldn't have to because ain't no one gonna dare kidnap you tonight!  And if they did, I'd get a call from them within five minutes, begging me to come pick you up!" 

 

He was right.  No human in their right mind would ever go through the trouble of dealing with such a mess--unless, of course, he was my daddy.  Isn't that the truth?  The things we put up with in our children--stuff that we would never put up with in anyone else on this planet--because of this unexplainable thing called LOVE?  The hoops we jump through, the sleep we lose, the hard knocks we bear just because we LOVE these crazy little people that call us mommy or daddy?  And while we are far from perfect in that LOVE, it is a reflection of the one true LOVE that is perfect.  The One who invites, who calls, who feeds and disciplines us so that we might be healthy and grow--the One who draws us home again and again...so that we might be held.  Just like Joseph in his daddy's arms, close to his daddy's heart, face in the nook of his daddy's neck so that his daddy can hear and feel every breath that he takes.  And when that daddy knows that there is a place of brokenness in his child's body, he doesn't reject him or hold him at arm's length like some in the world might do.  No,  he draws him closer still, and he whispers words of love and assurance in that sweet baby's ear--because he is his daddy. 

 

This is the picture that He gives us, it is the relationship He invites us into.  A Father.  A child.  He holds us--with all our questions, with all our fears, with all our joys, with all our attempts at trying to live this life well and with all our failures and all the times that we just want to throw in the towel--His arms never grow weary or tire.  Because He is the Perfect Father, the Perfect Daddy.  And so I am, my children are...and even that big 6 foot 6 man I love is...we are held.

 



Vulnerable Places

Contact in, contact out. Contact in, contact out.  Stress, stress.  Cry, cry.  Stress, stress.  Cry, cry.  It's been a little bit difficult around here since Tuesday when Joseph went to the Eye Center to get his tiny little contact.  His contact doctor wasn't there due to illness that day.  So a different doctor put the contact in...that was rough.  Then on to his other eye doctor for his check-up.  She thought the contact fit great.  However, she said now that the scarring has gone down they would need to order a different contact with a higher power.  She sent us home with instructions to just leave the contact in until we return in 3 weeks.  If the contact happens to pop out, put it back in.  Easier said than done, I thought.  But she said "if", so hopefully that would be a rare thing.  Patch an hour a day.  Sounded good to us.  We headed back out onto icy roads and drove home.  Dan went to work.  I took a shower. Going to the hospital always stresses me out--with a screaming baby and about double the commute time due to weather that day, I was ready to stand under hot water for 15 minutes and catch my breath. 

"Mommy!  I think Joseph's contact came out!"  What??  We hadn't been home 30 minutes!  Sure enough, stuck on his sleeper, already dried out, was a tiny little clear contact.  I panicked.  I quickly put the contact in saline solution.  How in the world did it come out that fast?  How in the world was I going to get it back in?  How in the world will I keep track of such a tiny and clear little thing if it comes out that easily?  Oh my!

My dear friend will sometimes text me as a reminder...breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Okay, that wasn't working.  So I called Dan at work and cried.  That usually seems to help.  When he got home that night, we went to work to try to get that tiny little thing back into a tiny little eye.  Screaming.  Tears.  Daddy holding his head, Mommy trying very unsuccessfully to put it in.  I wish you could see it.  Such a tiny, tiny object just brought on a whole truckload of stress.  Thank goodness for YouTube.  You can find anything on YouTube.  We did a search and watched a woman put a contact in an infant's eye.  We tried again.  The problem is the contact will not cooperate.  It slips, it turns, it goes inside out, then back again.  There is such a small window of time to even get it positioned before the tears and screams begin.  Then it's all over because he refuses to open his eye, and the prying just doesn't seem to work.  Finally!  I get it in, but it wasn't pretty.  We were exhausted. It seemed to take forever.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe in, breathe out.

Ninety minutes passed.  Out pops the contact.  And such has been the cycle, much of the time unsuccessful at even getting it in...and when we do...we have about 90 minutes.  So many fears race through my mind, we will have to make so many adjustments to our life to make this work.  I recruit older brother to help when Dan is at work.  He and I were successful only one time.  We go 24 hours before we get it to go in again.  We search for the best time where Joseph will even let us try.  Now he just cries if I even come near his eye.  I never thought I would despair over what is such a tiny thing to hold, but I do.  Time is of the essence in trying to gain eyesight.  I've been sure this week that I will be the one to blame for him not having sight.  The doctor had showed me how Joseph sees with and without the lens while we were at the office this week by holding different lenses over my eyes.  It was amazing.  We were so excited about the change he would have by just one tiny contact.  But then despair.  I've had a panic attack or two in difficult times before.  But this week they are stacking up.

So I call in, then wait for a call back.  They don't call.  Breathe in, breathe out.  I make plans.  The plans are this:  We can't do anything for the next two years.  It might seriously take hours to keep putting the contact in each day.  And I can't go anywhere.  It could just happen so fast...losing the contact...waiting a long time for an expensive re-order.  Who in the world could watch him while we go out?  No one can keep track of 7 kids and one little contact that refuses to stay put.  And certainly no one can get that little thing back on Joseph's eye.  No.  I won't be going anywhere anytime soon.  Not if I want my baby to see.  Breathe in, breathe out...but my throat feels like it is closing in.  Everything this week seems to bring me to tears--things, people--everything.

I go to Wal Mart.  I buy a million contact cases and fill them with saline.  One in my purse, just in case.  One in the diaper bag, just in case.  One upstairs, one downstairs...just in case.  Morning comes, I try again.  Tears and more tears.  His and mine.  I call again.  Sorry, they say.  Your chart isn't here, that's why we didn't call.  We will call later, they say.  Please, before the weekend, I beg.  Then five minutes later, he calls.  The contact doctor whom we didn't get to see on Tuesday.  I explain.  He reassures.  Ninety minutes at a time is not acceptable, he says.  I can finally breathe.  He will call early next week.  We will drive back in, then back in again, and again and again until we get it to stay longer.  He tells me it won't be easy, but that they will work with us as much as they can to get it to work as best as they can.  I remember Joseph's surgery doctor telling me that ideally they want him to be 2-years-old before they do another surgery to replace his lens.  However, she said they often have to go in at 18-months because the parents just can't fight the daily fight any longer.  I remember thinking that we HAVE to go 2 years, it's what gives the best chances for a good outcome.  Well, before the doctor returned my call today, I was ready to do that lens replacement surgery NOW.  This was awful.  I can't even last one week, let alone 18 months or 2 years!  Breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe in, breathe out.  He said if I can't get the contact in, we can wait until Monday.  Time does matter, he said, but we can take 2 days until we get the next contact if this one just won't work.  Breathe...

So here we are.  Dan suggests we try again tonight.  We set up a little station in the bathroom.  Joseph is happy.  Mommy and Daddy and tickles and smiles.  He lights up.  Okay, let's do this thing.  Daddy holds, Mommy maneuvers.  It goes in!  No tears. Not twelve tries, but one.  It is so much easier when he doesn't fight it, when my fingers don't shake, when, when, when...  I run out for groceries, Daddy puts on the patch.  It was 4:56 when the contact went in.  At 6:30 it popped out.  Ninety-four minutes.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Maybe next week will get better.

I reflect.  I sometimes dare to ask God to teach me from His vantage point something I need to learn.  Surely He has something for me in this.  Often I think that my 7 children are just microcosms of adults, and God has shown me that the matters of the heart are quite often the same in adults as they are in children...it's just that adults get pretty good at masking it.  So I ask, and I believe He responds.  Just observe, Amy.  Joseph's eyes right now look big and bright and cheery.  But there is a problem.  He can't see. He needs a new and different lens to correct his sight.  A contact lens should do the trick until a permanent one can be placed.  But as soon as I try to insert the lens, those big bright eyes shut me out.  It should be so simple, so easy.  But it's not.  It is such a vulnerable and sensitive spot, and he immediately shuts me out as soon as I try to do what we know will help him.  I coax, I pry.  Doesn't he know that I will be gentle if he will just let me in?  I would never use brute force because it's his eye!  I could do serious damage if I "forced" what was best for my son.  So there are tears on both sides.  He doesn't understand.  He doesn't know that I'm trying to help him gain something that is so important, something that will help him really see.  I would normally just give up, but I can't--this is too critical.  Someday he will understand just how important this was. His screaming and his tears don't let me off the hook.  Time will pass, and I will keep at it.  Gently, firmly, trying it this way, trying it another way...but I will press on. This isn't my 5-year-old wanting to wear completely mismatched clothes in the wrong season to Sunday School.  I could fight him on that, but is a blue-eyed freckle face little boy showing up in less than traditional church attire on a Sunday morning that big of a deal?  No.  Embarrassing?  Maybe.  But critical?  No.  How about eyesight?  Is that critical?  Yes, no doubt about it.  That one is a big deal.  He is my son. I love him desperately and I will do whatever I can, even if at times he thinks I'm the enemy. 

I think I'm beginning to get the lesson.  How many times have I been blind?  He loves me too much to let me stay that way.  But I am sometimes guilty of shutting out those He sends to love me enough to courageously and gently try to give me sight, those who fit the Proverb that says you can trust wounds from a true friend.  A wise counselor once told Dan and I that the person needing help or correction will most often attack or blame the messenger.  They put up a fight to protect their vulnerabilities.  Yes, I've done that.  But when I have let Him in, again, often coming through the people He sends with His message, it satisfies my soul...even if there was necessary pain in getting there.  When I don't, I just find myself in a constant battle, both in my soul and with those around me.  So I find that I have to redefine Him, making Him into someone He isn't because I want love to be always be soft, when really, sometimes love requires something of me and others that is hard.  Okay Lord, today I am listening.  Help me to see, whatever it takes.  Help me embrace those who really love me rather than walking away.

Other times I find myself in the role that I am in with Joseph.  That role can be so difficult for me because I am a harmonizer.  I want to avoid conflict, pain, and all that goes with it.  But sometimes going through the difficulty to get the joy on the other side is what is best.  And if I really love someone, and I know that love would get into the mess and sensitive places of someone who needs LOVE's new lens, I shouldn't let myself off the hook and avoid getting messy.  Not pushy, not forcibly.  But humble, gentle, firm, truthful--willing be hurt and willing to shed tears myself for the sake of truly helping someone I love.  I can name those who have loved me this way--humbly and gently --not shirking back from getting into the messy trenches of my life.  I am so thankful they stuck with me through it, that they sacrificed themselves to help me to see.  Yes, that is LOVE.  Lord, help me to love that kind of love...

I love my son.  So I move forword, I press into loving him well.  Once again, I'm scared, I'm nervous--and at the same time I'm chuckling because the daily issue that is so pressing in this house must seem pretty silly, it would to me if I were someplace else reading this.  A contact.  Something so small.  Yet something so big.  And something so hard.  But I love him.  So here I am in the trenches of daily life with such a sweet little boy...and one tiny contact...and mercy that comes from One who is bigger than all of this and so much more.  Yes, He is in this trench with us because He is Perfect LOVE and offers HIS Perfect LOVE to me...to Joseph...to each of us, and I can trust Him even when that LOVE seems hard. So I can...breathe in, breath out.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Breathe...