dependence

wow. i forgot how much babies cry. not during the day, mind you. during the day he is as silent as a photograph. cute. cuddly. tiny. and absolutely quiet.


but at night he comes alive. those seemingly glued down eyelids rip open to expose eyes that are ready to mock you with their incessant wailing, crying things like, "ha ha, you thought you might actually sleep for more than twenty minutes at a time tonight. what are you, crazy? its MY world, now, old man. you just have to find your little place in it."



at least that's what it sounds like to me.

here's the little nocturnal creature during his first sponge bath. you know, later on this morning i will be preaching on the 23rd psalm, and it occurs to me that the psalmist is really excited about his dependence on God. a sheep is pretty dependent. the shepherd leads him and provides for him and comforts him. sort of like what a parent does for a baby. in a culture (and in my own mind) which values independence, this kind of dependence is stark, isn't it?

we don't normally want to be dependent. it smells too much like weakness.

but, if we can lose our pride long enough to realize that we can't do everything, we will find a kind of richness we wouldn't otherwise discover. like, for example, this week. i'm not one to rely on people a whole lot, for the reasons stated above (it smells too much like weakness; i've somehow learned over the years that independence is a Godly virtue), but i absolutely had to rely on my parents this week. they were here in new jersey helping shannon and i out with jackson and max (the dog) while we prepared for labor and delivery. while we were in the hospital, we didn't have to worry about who was giving jack his bath or feeding the dog. there were moments when it felt (at least to me) like we were so weak, having to rely so fully on someone else. but it allowed us to focus all of our attention on Caedmon and our own well-being.

so, thank you, mom and dad. for your awesome generosity and your wonderful care. for your complete lack of grumbling and your grace. for your help even when i wasn't gracious in accepting it. and for teaching me a lesson in humility. for wiping poop from my son's butt when i wasn't there to do it. and for never saying a word about it. for allowing us to build up some sleep reserves to try and prepare for the brutal mockeries of our 3 day old son.

when we just stop trying to do everything ourselves. when we slow down a little. when we are more like sheep than shepherds. when we stop looking at dependence as a handicap. when we allow ourselves to be weak for a moment, we might just catch a little rest. like this guy.

peace,

greg.