Itsy Bitsy Spider Cure

I've come to realize it's not all that comforting to remember Mama told me there would be days like that: days when there's too much for one body to do; when every bathroom in the house is best viewed without glasses; when I've agreed to do too much, again; when families have issues and money is tight and mechanical things aren't working right; when it seems like a good solution to be cloned like Dolly the Sheep. Ethics aside, sometimes that sounds like a great idea, especially if the other one of me can deal with the paperwork, clean the bathrooms and get by on too little sleep.

It's so easy to see only what's wrong, focus on Goliaths that present themselves day in and day out. By habit I've stroked and coddled and caressed over the years, I run to the panic and fret mode.  Every time I do I keep the habit alive and well, thriving even.

God knows I'm dust. He lovingly reminds me - slow down, see the good, see God.

Sometimes I get it. Sometimes I am able to see through different eyes. Not ones that make me the David, empowered to conquer, overcome, but rather that see Him who took time to go to a wedding feast, stop for a talk at a well, have supper with outcasts, and bless the children brought to him.

Tonight I'm rocking a beautifully-chubby baby boy, running my hand over soft, dark brown hair that swirls perfectly around the top of his head, looking into those brown eyes too big for his face, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider, over and over and over. He holds his body up rigid, parallel to mine, unwilling to admit it's bedtime. I sing with eyes closed, hoping he'll follow suit. In a moment I feel that head of soft, swirling hair lean against my chest. Fingers in his mouth, sucking away. He'd likely rather have his mama there, but he'll settle for me, and I'm blessed because of it.

Gazing down at the top of his little head takes me back to when I rocked his Daddy who looked so much like him. Back then it was my goal to get him to sleep, so I could sleep myself. I find myself wishing I'd savored that time more, and feel Him telling me, 'soak in the 'now', I'm giving you a do-over.' There's no hurry, no rush to get this little one to doze off. Rather a sweet contentment with feeling his tummy next to mine, hearing his soft breathing as he gives in to the dark and the hum of the sound machine and my slightly-off-key voice singing about spiders climbing water spouts and sun coming out.

I'm present in this moment, and able to put down the cares of the world.
"Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not more valuable than they? WHO OF YOU BY WORRYING CAN ADD A SINGLE HOUR TO HIS LIFE? Matthew 6:25 - 27
He's more than capable of handling anything that comes up in my day. He can fight off any Goliath - giving me rest from the battle, or equip me with the slingshot and a sure aim. Right now I'm to enjoy seeing the other world out there - one of chubby babies, and bluebonnets and robins courting on our lawn, spring rains, and less-than-spotless indoor plumbing.

Dr. Gary Smalley, in the spring issue of 'Life:Beautiful' says that there are six causes of worry - the future, my reputation, money, possessions, time or health. When I feel worried, or weighed down, I'm to thank the Lord for the feeling then think about what is really bothering me.

Slowing down and taking time to rock a baby doesn't hurt either. 


Lori said…
Hey Bev, you found your comment window! I'm so glad to be able to tell you how much I enjoyed your post. I agree that slowly rocking a chubby baby, tummy-to-tummy, is so soothing to a habitual worrier!
Sarah said…
Oh, I love that baby! I'm pretty sure I'm not giving you another brown-eyed grandbaby--but I'll take all the rocking you're willing to do with this one, come fall!!

p.s. How did you and Dad end up with only one brown-eyed grandbaby? So odd.
Kelly said…
Nothing like rocking a baby to bring peace to your heart.

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