Tonight I ran to the
grocery store. (Last night I ate
disgusting processed noodles and cheese from a box, which was the final straw
in putting off the big monthly trip.) I left
the James Bear with his daddy at home, the allure of sunshine and warmth in the
backyard promising them an excellent playtime.
As I weaved my way through the aisles, filling our cart, my brain resumed
its, “I wish we could spend less money” mantra.
My brain insists on doing this once a month when rent, loan payments,
and grocery runs are due. It helps me
shop more frugally, but it also causes unnecessary worry and stress, which
sometimes gets taken out, regretfully, on VWH.
I hastened to get what was needed, avoiding big splurges, and headed for
the check-out.
The line didn’t look
too long but I failed to notice before I was committed, that the cart in front of
me was full of WIC items. I used to be a
cashier and dreaded when WIC customers would come through. Each transaction requires a special process,
and often there are 3 or more separate transactions before the customer is
actually finished. So a half-filled cart
can take 15 minutes to actually ring up.
If I had been in a rush today I would have sighed and silently bemoaned
my poor choice in check-out lines. But I
was pleasantly distracted by the boy helping his mom in whatever way he
could. Mom was working hard to keep her
WIC checks and items separate, and her son was eager to help put anything he
could on the conveyor belt. “Mom, can I
put that up for you?” “Mom, can I put
that bag in the cart?” “Mom, how does
the food move down like that?” The
little guy couldn’t have been more than 6 and had dark brown hair and glasses. His eager nature and inquisitiveness reminded
me of what VWH might have been like at that age, and very much what our own boy
could become. I smiled as they worked together
to unload, pay for, and reload their food, then cringed as I saw the
nutritionally-void puffed cereal and other cheaper, processed items going in
their cart. Somehow I instinctively knew
that this was the best this mom could do for her child, and his happiness in
helping her melted me, even as I looked down into my own cart overflowing with fresh
produce and whole grains. Yes, we could
probably spend less money on groceries, but what a privilege to have the
resources to spend a bit more and buy fresh, healthy food for our family. And how shameful that I should be so worried about it, while a little boy with much less is infinitely more content.
I recently read an
article written about a baby girl dying of an incurable disease. This little girl, Avery, was born on 11.11.11
and died earlier this week from a degenerative spine disease. Avery had her very own blog, with a little
help from her parents, in which she described the nature of her disease and
celebrated milestones as she checked items off of her “bucket list.” On the list included things like sitting up
on her own, throwing out the first pitch at a baseball game, a first kiss, and
finding a cure for her spine. She
accomplished them all except the final one, but her blog has attracted a ton of
attention (and money) towards eradicating her illness. Her father wrote after her passing that baby
Avery spent her final minutes smiling at her parents.
I made the mistake of
reading this article as I nursed my own sweet baby, who was originally due on
the same day of Avery’s birth. As I
looked down at his perfect little head and watched his tiny hand blindly and contentedly explore the
folds of my shirt I wept. I wept for
Avery and her parents, I wept for fear of anything that tragic happening to
James, and I wept with happiness for how healthy and happy our little bear
is.
Motherhood has changed
me. Little things that I wouldn’t think
twice about now cause me to stop and deeply reflect, like Avery’s story or the
little boy in the check-out line. I can’t
read or watch things about child abuse without tearing up. Books and movies that touch on, however
briefly, neglect or tragedies in children’s lives often don’t get
finished. A new part of me has awakened, a new layer revealed…a
part that causes me to love with an intensity I didn’t know was possible. With that love comes a heightened awareness
of joy and triumph. (When James rolled
over for the first time it felt like Christmas, my birthday, and winning the
Ultimate Frisbee intramural championship all into one.) But it also comes with the ability to hurt at
a deeper level. My heart is bigger, but
that means it’s a larger target for disappointment and brokenness too.
It is a beautiful
privilege to be here, in this new season of life. As I travel into new realms of love and
family, more is revealed about the depth of our Lord’s love and His good gifts
to us. I came home from the store tonight,
pulled into the driveway, and met my husband who came out to greet me holding James. They welcomed me with enormous smiles and my
heart overflowed with happiness for where I’m at and who I’m with. Praising God for these new things being
revealed to me lately!
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