Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Such a special boy

Several months ago we tried to take comfort in this distant notion that eventually things would begin to feel so normal.  Daily we'd adjust to a new way of doing things and these new ways wouldn't seem so new after a while.  In fact, with a little bit of effort, they might feel special.  I think I can safely say we're in the middle of something better than normal and flat out special.

For starters Jude began eating solid foods in his high chair with the rest of the family.  Certainly an anxiety we shared was how to feed a child who can't see the spoon in front of his face.  Although a new experience for us all, he has taken to cues nicely and, we both agree, is a better eater than his brothers before him at this point.  We're so relieved at how well he's done.

His muscle control continues to improve and we are confident he'll one day crawl, which is a difficult idea for one without sight.  He has been sitting up with confidence and plays in a new sensory play house, built by Mom.  We've also been impressed at his awareness of objects around him   Shake a rattle near his face and he'll grasp to play.  When he drops a toy, he's begun to reach for the item in search of it.

Outside of these exciting feats, most importantly, he continues to be the sweetest boy our house could want.  Granted it's an awareness different to the ways we loved our parents, I assure you, he is very much aware of his mom and dad, brothers and friends and loves us deeply.  He will still to the sounds and voices of his loving family members.  We are blessed to hear him sing beautifully for us all.  To say things are normal here would be minimizing how special Jude continues to be.

St. Jude: Pray for us.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The long view

I recently attended a meeting for a committee I joined for my church's mother's group. The leader of the meeting said this prayer in preparation for the undertaking of a large fundraiser we are preparing for in November. While the prayer was very fitting for the meeting, it is also fitting for my life. 
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.
Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
If one is not careful, motherhood can become a losing battle to have it all. It is so easy to become overwhelmed with all the things that we feel are necessary; a spotless house, perfectly behaved children, time to workout, a home cooked dinner served by 5:30pm. Not to mention chauffeuring kids back and forth to preschool, time with the hubby, and all those craft ideas I have pinned on Pinterest. 
I cannot do everything. Try as I may, I cannot. It is very liberating to write these words. I can still be a good mother, wife, nurse, daughter, friend and not do everything. When Jude's therapist asks what I have done this week, I can say not as much as I would have liked. I can invite people over even though the house is a mess and I can order pizza out for those nights when making dinner is just too much. 
Remembering that I am part of something larger, something beyond my reach helps me to focus on the activities, jobs, and people that are most meaningful. What I can do, I can do well and know that God is there for the things I cannot do. His grace is ever present. It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
St. Jude: Pray for us.