Lessons from a New Born

People said our lives would change overnight with having a baby. While we believed them, you are still unprepared for how true that statement is. All of a sudden, it takes hours to get ready and get out of the house. It's hard to clean or cook because this newborn needs constant holding and feeding. The amount of what we can get done in a day has dwindled, and we're constantly tired. Sleeping until 5 am now feels like we got an entire night's sleep. A date to the mall felt like a huge accomplishment.

But with the rush and bustle, sleep deprivation, and feelings of inadequacy of not getting as much done as I used to get done, come feelings of constant joy and amazement. Seeing her smile is wondrous. Seeing her lift her head or get up on her knees feels me with awe at her momentous accomplishment. I've been spit up on, thrown up on, peed on, and pooed on, but I don't mind at all. In fact, I love every moment I get to spend with her because she is my child. Nothing is too gross or lowly to do when it comes to her. It's okay that I don't get much done that I wanted to do because it means I met her needs and gave her the attention that she craves. I provided for my daughter.

She doesn't always realize that her mother is watching and meeting her needs. She'll cry as I am preparing to feed her. She'll fight sleep even though she needs it, and I have to work extra hard to get her to sleep. She doesn't always realize her needs are about to be met, and for that matter, she doesn't always know what she needs or wants, but her mother is right beside her, watching her, anticipating her needs, and eagerly does everything she can to more than meet her needs and wants.

Her cries break my heart--especially when she doesn't realize I am right beside her, reaching for her, trying to help her. I desperately want her to know she is loved and cared for and valued. I want her to know me and desire me above all other people--to have a relationship with me. I want her to know that nothing she can do can make me love her more or less. She is my daughter--that is enough--she will always be loved. When she smiles at me or stops crying as soon as I get her in my arms and she sees me, I melt inside. I'm overwhelmed by my love for her.

And it makes me think that's how God feels about us. Nothing was too lowly for Him. In fact, he humbled himself and took on the very nature of a servant for us--for his children. He hears our each and every cry, even when we don't feel like he's listening. Even when we don't know what we want or need, he does and he answers those cries.

Why does he do this? Because we're his children. He loves us. He revels in our smiles and our accomplishments too. And more than anything, he wants us to know Him--to desire Him above all others, to have a relationship with Him, to realize that He is trustworthy. We're His children, his babies, and He loves us.

That's something I can rest in; I can depend on it. And it's okay that I don't get much done--that I feel like I am slipping and failing at times--because I am His child. My identity is in that--I am His child no matter what I do or do not do. I am secure in Him; I am loved.