"International Evening": a poem.

It's a big, big world out there,
I think to myself, and stare,
as I sit in my living room at dusk,
watching a car drive by in a rush
with the radio blaring--
a sign that the schoolkids are out,
out and about, somewhere to go,
and that night magic is inviting,
so exciting, soon to flow.
Meanwhile,
by lamplight I am reading a poetry book,
pausing at times to take a look
at the outdoor activity and approaching evening,
feeling the weight of my baby, on my lap finally sleeping.

Who else is looking out their window,
like, in Rio De Janeiro,
listening to the cars zoom,
and seeing the city lights bloom,
as the sun goes down?
How many other mothers are doing
what I am doing, at just the same time--
a boring, lonely, immobile thing--
bringing camaraderie, secret and sublime?
But only if
their imaginations are also pondering
the same thing as our minds are wandering...
Who really knows, or even cares?
All I know is: it's a big, big world out there.


--Ellen H.

P.S. If you like accessible, contemporary poems, check out one of Billy Collins' collections (former U.S. Poet Laureate): they always inspire some smiles and poetry of my own. :)

An Ode To The Socks with Chicks on Them.

Ode

To the socks that fit my daughters feet

and stay on:

Thank you.

You are white, matching everything,

yet cute, delighting me with baby chicks;

Thick, making up for no shoes,

and snug, without leaving marks on her skin.

In a dull world of no stirrup pants for infants--

where the fashion fad would have had staying power

due to being truly useful--

at least you socks commit to keep feet warm

and toes clean

and moms sane

since I don’t have to endlessly look for a missing twin

escaped from the job

of warding off chilly Autumn.

Wryly writing on,

Ellen H.

Daily Manna.

When I lived in Spain for a semester in college, my house mother would leave most mornings to buy a fresh loaf of crusty bread for the day. Loaves like that get stale quickly, so you want to use them up in a day or two. It was a sweet daily ritual, this elderly lady going down the street to the local market with her rolling grocery basket and picking up the food she needed to cook with for the day. I, on the other hand, as a boring, non-health-food-conscious American, buy two loaves of preservative-laden bread at a time from the grocery store, usually freezing one to have on hand after the first is used up in a week.

So when I'm reading the prayer that Jesus models for his disciples and I get to the part about "Give us this day our daily bread" (Matthew 6:11), the idea isn't so relevant. I've got the money to pay for more than one day's bread at a time, plus it's more convenient for me to buy bread that stays soft for a whole week. I don't have to ask God to provide food each day... and I am thankful for this. I consider it a blessing from God that our family has enough for today and tomorrow and next week-- not just for food, but gasoline and clothes and if something unexpected comes up. Jesus isn't just talking about literal bread, after all. But there is a downside to a stocked up pantry, freezer and bank account (though I am far from rich, my friend): I don't have to rely on God to meet my daily needs. Or rather, I don't think I do. 

Motherhood has shed a whole new light on this concept. I like to be good at stuff, to be independent. Suddenly, however, there's something I'm not good at. I don't have a "stock" of skills to make up for it, either. Six weeks ago, I knew nothing about getting a baby to fall back asleep, setting up a bedtime routine, watching for a fever... Nor was I prepared for the struggle of being home alone when you can't leave, nor how to have an outlet when I physically couldn't exercise yet. Suddenly, parenthood has made me very aware of how needy I am every day, and it's humbling.

The biblical concept of relying on God for each day's needs didn't begin with Jesus teaching the Lord's Prayer, of course. In the Old Testament, Moses leads the nation of Israel through the desert. There's not much food in the desert, you know. So the Lord provides for them, but with a lesson attached: "Then the Lord said to Moses, 'Behold, I am about to rain bread from heaven for you, and the people shall go out and gather a day's portion every day, that I may test them, whether they will walk in my law or not.'" (Exodus 16:4)

Watch what the people do: (v 19-21) "And Moses said to them, 'Let no one leave any of it over till the morning.' But they did not listen to Moses. Some left part of it till the morning, and it bred worms and stank. And Moses was angry with them. Morning by morning they gathered it, each as much as he could eat; but when the sun grew hot, it melted."

An interesting lesson, isn't it? God provides food for his people, but not multiple loaves of preservative-laden bread. This is a new kind of bread (they called it "manna") with a quick expiration date. God wants to keep the Israelite's focus and dependence squarely on Himself. That meant every day they would have to wake up and expect God to meet their needs, and then not gather any extra for the following day: each day would provide enough.

This isn't a lesson about buying fresh crusty bread instead of Sara Lee (though some of my health-conscious friends might beg to differ). Nor is it a lesson about not needing savings in the bank. It is a lesson about looking to God for what we need today, and then trusting Him to be there again tomorrow, and then yet again the next day, so that we never leave the place of needing God, and knowing we need Him.

"Jesus, give us this day our daily bread."

So I have begun to simplify my prayers. Certainly God loves Dreaming Big prayers and Kingdom Come prayers and Miraculous Healing prayers. I still want the faith to pray those kinds too. But while no request is too big, so motherhood has reminded me that no request is too small or too simple, either:

"Jesus, please help my daughter fall back asleep so she will wake up truly rested."
"Help us get through the grocery store without a meltdown."
"Arrange this day so I can enjoy the sunshine outside once."

These are real prayers I have whispered in the last few weeks. My needs and my baby's needs are basic. No hour-long intercession needed here. I may pray the exact prayer again tomorrow. But these allow me to watch how God meets me in those needs. Daily. It's good for my faith.

Sometimes, big, vague prayers require less faith because rarely do I look back at "Be with us this week" or "Grant smooth travel for everyone this weekend" to see how He answered. My "small" requests are good practice for other "small" needs in my life: first to identify them as worth praying about--because we are "worth more than many sparrows"--and then to remember to actually pray them. Not just worry them. I like how The Message translation puts it: "Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers."

Let me be clear: this is not the whole of all my prayers. I do not envision God as a Heavenly Vending Machine for my personal needs. I do not ignore the important work of praising and thanking Him. Nor have I laid aside prayers for the needs of others and the bigger picture. Like I said, I still want to be praying in other ways too. Right now I see in a deeper way that I need Him for the most basic things in my life, things that I thought I could get or do on my own. What I really need, and what we all need, in the end, is God Himself, far more than what He merely gives or does. And I keep needing Him. Every day. Very present and practical prayers keep me aware of this. The Father loves when my focus is squarely fixed on Him. We see this throughout the Bible. We weren't made to do this life alone, friend, but to look for Him to be enough for us, morning after morning, as we gather our sweet sustenance for another day.

I need Thee, oh I need Thee
Every hour I need Thee
Oh bless me now my Savior
I come to Thee!

Thoughtfully writing on,
Ellen H.

(Hymn: "I Need Thee Every Hour" by Annie Hawks)

Other Thoughts from Motherhood.

Continuing in the theme of my experiences in new motherhood, here is a collection of shorter thoughts I've been collecting in the first six weeks of my baby's life:

The pattern on my borrowed breastfeeding cover.

- When I turn this breastfeeding cover around, it becomes a cape. 
Backstory: My husband and I have a housemate so I often wear a privacy cover at home while breastfeeding. When I briefly stand up from the couch to get something, I might flip the cover around so it falls behind my back rather than taking it off for a moment. The thought that it's a motherhood cape makes me feel magical and cheers me up.

- I'm really coming to love mornings.
I never hated them, but now they are especially precious and ever so needed. I am finding particular truth in the verse, "Sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5) Everything seems possible in the morning, light finally in the sky, especially with a cup of coffee. I was never a regular coffee drinker nor needed caffeine daily until this baby. But now, plus a little sleep (not enough, but some), I am ready to do Today. "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22-23)

- When someone's baby is inconsolable, you hand them back to mom.  I am now that person.
This thought, that I am the ultimate solution, is overwhelming at times. Especially now, in perhaps her fussiest stage: the dreaded six-week mark. I feel so ill-equipped to be the final hand-off person, the end of the line. To my husband, breastfeeding seems like the magic key to baby's happiness. But when she doesn't want that, I'm not so special anymore. Of course, she's still biologically bonded with me: my scent, my voice, my face, my touch. Yet in her red-in-the-face rage, even those hold little power. Still, there is no other mother. This is an awesomely heavy realization.

- I find that when I am in a room with tall ceilings, my thoughts are more expansive and my mood more positive.
Someone should do a study on this, if they haven't already, to find out if people truly are more creative or more optimistic in taller rooms. Of course, simply changing location is good. Since my baby was born, I'm in my house a lot, and I haven't returned to work yet. But I do believe I am particularly more creative when I'm in rooms with higher-than-average ceilings. I need to remember this when I'm having writer's block or particularly struggling with the adjustment to parenthood.

Anyway, just some thoughts to share.
I remain thoughtfully yours,
Ellen H.