Part one is here.
My son has developed a new habit that only be described as utterly annoying. When he's on the changing table, he now rolls while he's being changed. This, of course, usually results in the contents of his dirty diapers being spread far more than is necessary. He gets in a position like he's about to crawl off the changing table. This would be a bad thing considering the table's height. Today, I needed my wife to hold him down while I changed him. He thinks it's hysterical. I disagree. I got so frustrated with him this morning that I kinda yelled at him, " I can't help you if you keep moving!"
Being the expert theologian that I am, I immediately thought of Psalm 46:10 "‘Be still, and know that I am God!". Psalm 37:7 came to me later, "Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him"
I like the idea of being more of a contemplative. I really do. I'm not wired for it though. I thrive off of being busy. I'm always distracted, always moving. Sometimes not stopping long enough to realize that I'm a mess. Sometimes moving so quickly that I spread my mess to others, who then have my mess on their hands. (sorry if this is getting too graphic. it was a rough morning.)
Anyway, I've just ben thinking about what it would look like for me to sit still long enough for God to take care of my mess. Not the messes that I need to take care of, which usually involve my saying "I'm sorry" (or "I forgive you"). The messes that can only be handled by taking a look at my own broken-ness, my own fallibility, my own short-comings and being honest about who I am. The messes that are created by my own insecurity and selfishness. The mess that is my still grieving heart. When I sit still for too long, I'm reminded of these things. They wash over me. Sometimes the hurt comes out in a deep sigh. Sometimes in actual tears....
... and that's when my mess gets cleaned. Not in the hurried busyness, but in the solitude and silence. In those times when I acknowledge that the mess is there. When I slow down long enough to realize that the one who deals with my mess loves me deeply and just wants me to get out of it. When I realize that my mess does not define who I am, that's where the fresh start begins.
I've learned a lot from my son over the last nine months. I seem to only write down the lessons that are diaper related. There's no pretense when changing a diaper. No denial. There's nothing fake about it. I'm sure one day he will hate me for writing this stuff. Hopefully when he's done hating me, he'll realize that his daddy loved him and was so grateful for all that he learned.