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.