Why blog? I don't even have a facebook account...it feels like it makes life so public. But then--blogging is kind of like a diary, isn't it? It makes me feel a little like Doogie Houser at the end of the day--collecting my thoughts and putting them down. I don't want to blog because I want my life to be public (though I don't mind wearing my heart on my sleeve, most of the time) or because I'm a narcissist, but because these days of our young family are so precious I don't want to lose them to a faulty memory. This time, this stage, these moments truly are 'a time to keep', and blogging is simply the most convenient way to keep them and share them.

I really didn't think I'd ever start a blog...but now that Mac has stopped calling firetrucks "fire knuckles" (he now calls them firetrucks, and I'm so sad!), I realize I'll forget that he ever did that if I don't write it down. So, the blog begins. Welcome.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy Valentines Day!


"What is your only comfort in life and in death?
That I am not my own, but belong--body and soul, in life and in death--to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven: In fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to Him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him."
Heidelberg Catechism Question One

We used to recite this once a month at our North Carolina church. I love the way it sums up truths in Scripture (the whole point of catechisms, by the way). I have it on my mind this morning because I've been thinking about how "I am not my own" in a mothering sense: at this stage, with a toddler and a nursing infant, my body is not my own, my time is not my own, even my belongings are not my own (in the sense that I might find one of my church shoes in the pantry). In this sense, I am not my own but belong--in a way--to my children.

In another sense, I am my husband's. I've been thinking a lot about an article written by Dr. Barbian (counselor at our church) in the church's weekly newsletter. An excerpt:
"A second important consideration for marital love is to recognize that loving my spouse sacrificially is my highest calling. Think about this for a moment. God loves my spouse perfectly. Yet she cannot see him, hear him, or feel him. But she can see, hear and feel me. I become the tangible vessel through which God loves my spouse. She has needs for love that can and will only be met by me. My failure in these areas leaves her disappointed at best, feeling unloved at worst. Think about this tangible vessel idea. As you show your spouse kindness, patience, grace, physical and verbal affection, spend quality time, or meet any other love need, you are meeting needs created by God. It is your ministry and privilege to do so."

What a convicting though! I love the way Dr. Barbian explains this and reminds me of my calling as a wife. I think that while our children are at home, it also applies to our parenting (as in--our children understand God's love by the way that we as parents love them).

The point of all my ramblings? How does this all tie together? Ultimately, a reminder to myself that I am not my own, but belong--body and soul--to Jesus. And because I belong to Jesus--my life should reflect this in my attitude towards my husband and my children. Belonging to him means that--in a sense--I belong to them.

The funny thing about this? It's not as if I'm some victim, giving up myself in a way that makes my life terrible. Hard, yes; bitter, no. When I give myself to this way of thinking--praying that the Lord enables me to do so--I find the greatest joy and contentment. I realize that this is the way the Lord has designed families. (Funny that he most often uses family relationships to describe our relationship with him: the church as the bride of Christ; God the Father and us his adopted, dearly loved children.) When I look at my life, my time (this is a big one for me), my possessions as belonging to the Lord entirely, it frees me from feeling encumbered and resentful about giving away myself, my time, my things. They're not mine anyway.

And--as the catechism reminds me--"Christ, by his Holy Spirit...MAKES me wholeheartedly willing and ready...to live for Him." He works in me to do this. It's not a matter of "pulling up my bootstraps" and working harder to be a selfless, 'good' person. I heard this thought, attributed to Mother Teresa, recently:
My ministry is to realize the overwhelming love of Jesus for me, and from the overflow of that love to love others. (Not a direct quote--but something like this.)

It starts with Jesus, not with me. True love, not a burden. His power and love, at work in me as I change diapers and fix supper. The ultimate Valentine:
"I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you,being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how WIDE and LONG and HIGH and DEEP is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the FULLNESS of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen." Ephesians 3:16-21 {Don't you think Paul must have underlined and written in caps sometimes?}

Sometimes, the thing that is more than I can ask or imagine is being patient and kind when Mac is making me crazy, unloading the dishwasher--with joy!--when I'd rather be reading blogs, or being understanding and loving when Brad can't read my mind. What a comfort that the power to do this is in Christ, and not in me. I am not my own. What a comfort, what a blessing.

Happy Valentines Day!


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