He's Got the Tiny Little Babies

I hate small talk. It’s awkward, shallow and pretty stinking hard to think of topics to talk about.

I love deep conversation. I love hearing stories and discussing matters of the heart. I love hearing people talk about their passion and watching the love shine through their eyes and in their words.

And I absolutely love silence. Sitting outside with someone next to me, no words being exchanged, is probably one of my favorite things.

Growing up, my two most favorite men taught me how to fish, hunt and run. All three require little small talk and plenty of time for life lessons and silence.

Papaw would take me out in his boat or to a fishing hole where we would fish for hours. I probably talked a ton, but he rarely said a word.

There was a sense of security there. His quietness shouted love. His smiles reflected endearment. And when he told stories, his eyes would light up and his words went straight to my heart.

The same with Dad.

He taught me how to hunt and run. It took me some years to get used to being quiet in the deer stand, but now it’s one of my favorite places to be. It could be because the opportunities are few and far between these days, but I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m madly in love with my dad and thoroughly enjoy the silence we share.

There’s something sweet about knowing our minds are running like crazy, but still being overwhelmed with peace simply by being in each other’s presence.

When we run together, we often talk about life. The older I’ve become, the more depth our conversations have. I’ve learned some of life’s best lessons from my dad on our runs.

I think that’s why I’ve come to love being at the baby hospital. I don’t have to make small talk. I can sing to the babies or sit in silence with my boy.

The other day, my little one and I were outside. We are working on building his strength to walk on his own, so taking long strolls is our thing. Up and down stairs, through tall grass and across loose gravel. Every once in a while, I’ll tell him a story, say “I love you,” or “good job, buddy!”

He can’t talk, which only further enhances the silence.

Last week after a really long walk, I sat down in the grass under some shade. I expected him to sit down next to me, but instead, he stretch his arms out, wrapped them around my neck, and crawled in my lap.

Be still, my heart.

So I rocked him.

I hummed Jesus, Lover of My Soul, and prayed Psalm 23 over him.

Over the next 20 minutes, we sat in silence. It was one of the most peaceful moments I’ve experienced. Jesus was there, quietly sitting with us.

The more I hang out with my little man, the more I fall in love with him. I tried my hardest at the beginning of the summer to keep my heart guarded, but it quickly melted when I met him.

He fascinates me. His tics, the odd little ways he moves, his angry little grunt when I do something he doesn’t like and the way I can see his mind running wild by watching his face…

He is such a gift.

He has given me more love than I know what to do with. Our quiet moments have allowed the Lord to speak to me so clearly. Watching him, his every little move, has shown me what it’s like to really love someone.

Just like the days spent with Papaw with a fishing pole in our hands or the hours spent in a deer blind with Dad, the silent walks with my little boy are etching memories in my heart that will never be replaced.

With him, time slows down. The craziness of life calms and all the worries are silenced.

Life begins the moment he wraps his arms around me as I take him out of his crib.

I know that in less than two weeks, I will probably never see him again. I’ll have no control of his days or be able to watch his every move.

That’s when Jesus steps in.

Our precious Heavenly Father.

Oh, how He loves each and every one of us.

He will be the one to watch my little man grow. It will be His hand that heals, His arms that wrap around him, His voice that soothes.

And that, my friends, is the power of Jesus.

I don’t have to worry because He has the whole world in His hands.

Think about that song for a second.

He’s got the sun and the moon in His hands. He’s got the wind and the rain in His hands. He’s got the tiny little babies in His hands. He’s got the whole world in His hands.

You, me, everyone…we are all in His hands. On both sides of the world, at all times, we are in the mighty hands of our Savior.

When I get overwhelmed with the thought of never seeing my babies again, I start to hum those lyrics over and over.

That’s when Jesus starts to slow time, calm the craziness and silence the worries.

He has us in His hands.

That’s more than enough for me.

Precious Father, thank You so much for the gift of love. Praise You for softening our hearts and pouring Your perfect peace into them. Thank You for Your quiet and gentle ways. You are so much more than I could ever imagine, so much greater than words can express. It’s in the silent moments that You speak so clearly. Thank You for allowing time to slow and our minds to be still. Continue to work in our hearts, Father. Let our actions be a reflection of the love You graciously give to us. You are so good, so very good. Thank You for holding us in Your perfect hands.

Little Flock, Little Flock

I apologize for being lame and skipping a week of blog writing. Based on the title of my blog page, it’s safe to say it’s pretty obvious I’m not so dependable in this department.

It’s also kind of hard to keep the public updated about what’s going on this summer. Since it has taken some time to build a relationship with the hospital we work at, putting anything on Facebook that could halfway offend them and jeopardize the relationship is just too risky. If you would like an in-depth update, please message me your email and I’ll add you to the list.

The past two weeks have been a bit of a rollercoaster ride.

I even threw up one night. Ya, it’s real.

Last week I was battling with a bunch of anger (classic), but not just my normal genetic anger that I often wake up with for no reason.

This was full blown bitterness at God. A few months ago, doubt started to creep in but I was able to brush it aside. By the beginning of last week, I was wrestling with more questions and angry thoughts than I knew what to do with.

I was David. My thoughts were Goliath.

After quite a few choice statements and temper tantrums, Jesus graciously blessed me with peace that I had been longing for but nowhere near deserved.

Add in some typical woman emotions, throw up, and an awkward European massage, it made for one crazy week.

This week, however, I was blessed with some pretty laid back days. We had a huge team at the baby hospital, so my time there was split in half. The time I actually was there was spent standing to the side and helping the team members work the babies.

The Lord graciously gave me plenty of time to dig into His Word and placed scriptures on my heart to stone down those ugly thoughts and fears.

Goodbye, Goliath. Ain’t nobody got time for you here.

A few weeks ago while looking through Luke 12, Jesus said something that really hit home.

Do not be afraid, little flock….

How do you respond to those words? For me, my heart fluttered.

When I read them, I feel safe. I imagine Jesus scooping me up in His strong arms, holding me tightly as He whispers sweet words of truth.

Do not be afraid, little flock.

How endearing!

One of the little toddlers I work with has had a rough life. He has been traumatized in more ways than one, so you can imagine the fears that constantly run through his precious mind. Fear is his go-to emotion and when he is afraid, he gets angry. He doesn’t know how to feel or how to communicate except through hitting, kicking, and screaming.

Most of my time with him is spent holding him tightly while humming a song and praying scriptures over him.

Do not be afraid, little flock. You’re safe here with me. I’m not going to hurt you. You can rest here in my arms and know that nothing is going to harm you. I am with you. I love you, sweet lamb.

If only he knew how much I mean the words I whisper to him. If only he would trust me.

But wait…

If only we knew how much Jesus means the words He whispers to us. If only we would trust Him.

I’ve realized that the doubts that had been creeping in my mind started with fear. Fear of the emotions that I would experience here, fear about the future, fear about the unknown.

When I’m afraid, I get angry. I fight everything and everyone. The battle in my mind was not against God, but fear. Fear that He would let me down, fear that He wouldn’t give me what I thought I needed, fear that this summer would break me down with no ability to be repaired.

Do not be afraid, little flock…

Last week, when I was kicking, screaming and biting, the Lord quietly whispered to not be afraid, to trust Him, to rest in His arms while He kept me safe from harm.

He promises us that He is our Good Shepard, He will lead us by quiet waters and make us lie down in green pastures. He will look for us when we stray and rejoice when we are safe in His arms again.

When I think of His words, “do not be afraid, little flock,” it’s the “little flock” part that truly gives me peace. He’s not just telling us to not be afraid; He is bringing even more love by giving us a name. Little flock.

He is talking to us all. We aren’t just some giant heard that He talks to in general terms. We are His little lambs.

Think about when you were a child and you were afraid or hurt. “It’s ok, baby. I’ll help your hurt.” “Don’t you worry, child. I have it under control.”

There’s so much more comfort when there is a term of endearment attached to the phrases.

While I won’t be able to heal this little boy’s hurt over the next few weeks, I will be able to keep him safe for now. I can rest easy in knowing that Jesus has the power to scoop him in His arms and whisper, “do not be afraid, little flock.”

Each one of those babies has a special place in my heart. I hate that I won’t be able to see them grow up, that I have no clue what their home is like, that I know I can’t save them in a few short weeks.

But I love that they each have a special place in the arms of our Shepard. They are not hidden from His view. They haven’t strayed; they are in a special pen with Little Flock written on a sign above the gate. And I know that He will take care of them long after I am gone.

Father, thank You for taking care of us when we are afraid. Even when we lash out against You, Your arms have the power to calm us, restore us, and comfort us. Jesus, I know that Your eyes are always on us. Nothing in all creation is hidden from You; Your eyes have seen our unformed bodies. When we are tired, You make us lie down in Your green pasture. When we are lost and feel alone, You place us in Your lap and keep us with You until it’s safe to put us down. You are near to us and I know this will never change. Praise You, Lord, for Your love. Oh, how we don’t deserve it, but You, God, believe that we do. Thank You.

Voice Like Beyonce, Heart Like Peter

There’s this little boy at the hospital who, for privacy reasons, we will call Fred.

Fred is the sweetest.

He showed up Monday morning for probably the millionth time in his short 3-year lifetime.

If you know me, you know that I’m a sucker for boys. I would MUCH rather be a mom to boys than girls, mainly because I don’t want to have to deal with a mini-me.

I was awful.

So naturally, when another little boy shows up at the hospital with the biggest blue puppydog eyes, I fall in love.

The thing about Fred is that he has a few issues developmentally, cognitively, socially, etc.

Basically, he’s a bit awkward.

It’s obvious we were meant to be.

Except when Fred gets upset, he likes to scream.

If Fred ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy because our ears are degenerating due to the pitch and volume of Fred’s screams.

It’s been a long week with little Fred. I started working with him Wednesday morning and I feel like a year has passed in just a few days. I’m almost positive that I have had about ten gray hairs pop out.

One thing that has made it so difficult is that I know many causes to his issues; it’s what I have been studying for the past six years. But actually applying that knowledge is a completely different thing.

Textbooks don’t prepare you for tantrums, smelly hospitals, and adorable little babies that age you ten years in ten minutes.

Friday morning I spent about 30 minutes with Fred in the little “park” that is in the hospital. Both he and I were getting pretty overwhelmed with the amount of people in one little room, so we decided to take a breath of fresh air and spend some quality alone time together.  

One thing I forgot is how sensitive little Fred is to change. Take Fred out of the crib and into a room, he gets upset. Take away a toy he has become attached to, he screams. Change up any little bitty thing that he gets used to and he becomes upset.

I don’t blame him; the little guy has had a rough few years so naturally sensitivity issues develop.

It took about 25 of those 30 minutes to walk around a space the size of a classroom. I was holding him as we would go up to each object in the area, knocking on the wood or poles that we passed. He needed to check out every little space before he was comfortable enough to be put down. The moment he became a little upset, the process started all over again. As we were walking, I was singing to him.

Singing to the babies is my go-to comfort move. In my mind, I feel like my voice can be rather soothing, especially if I simply hum the lyrics. I have put the babies to sleep many times with my Beyoncé-like humming.

The only problem is that my playlist is only about 3 songs long: You’ll Be in My Heart by Phil Collins; Jesus, Lover of My Soul by any Christian artist; and Hinta, Hinta (more than likely, almost definitely the wrong spelling), which is Romanian for “swing” and it’s my own song that I’ve made up.

It goes something like this:

            Hiiiiiiinta, hiiiiinta! La la la!!
            Hiiiinta, hiiiiinta. Ba ba ba.

Fascinating, right?? I know, I know. It’s really stinking annoying. But for some reason, it’s my go-to song.

I even find myself rocking and humming it when I’m waiting at the bus stop. Or brushing my teeth. Or anything else that I do when I’m awake.

I’ve been reflecting over my time with Fred and thinking of different activities that we could do with him to gain trust and encourage development. I’ve been thinking about what is going on in his environment when he starts screaming or crying to see if it is anything that I am doing or if it’s just the only reaction he knows.

Then it hit me: what if it’s my singing?!?!

I mean, think about it.

You’re a little boy with a bad past and a little American girl comes in, picks you up, starts giving you kisses everywhere and immediately starts singing a song with a few simple words over and over and over and over again.

I’m probably only adding to the trauma.

Bless his heart.

I feel like if he or any of the other babies could talk, they would be screaming at me to shut up.

Maybe that’s why none of the babies are making progress with speech or vocal sounds: the Lord is sparing me from really hurtful words.

Gosh, God’s mercy is so wonderful!

Another thing I have realized this week is how much I am like Peter.

In John, we see Peter upset at the idea of Jesus washing his feet. When Jesus tells him, “unless I wash you, you have no part with me,” Peter immediately wants his entire body to be washed.

I’m not a scholar about the Bible, but what I gather from this is that Peter so desperately wanted his entire self to be like Jesus, not just a part.

Oh, so washing my feet makes me a part of you?? I want more than just Your feet Jesus. Don’t just make me partially like You. Wash all of me so I can have all of You!

How true does that ring with you?

When I read or hear what it takes to be like Jesus, to be in relationship with Him, I immediately jump to do it all.

God, make me like You right now! I don’t want to just believe in You, I want to talk like You, act like You, heal people like You, change lives like You. I want You and to be exactly like You!

Wow. Think about if He actually answered that prayer in the timing we had. We wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Instead, He takes us in His arms and slowly introduces us to life with Him. He slowly transforms our hearts, sometimes taking it slower or faster, depending on what He feels like we can handle.

If God changed me to be just like Him all at once, how would I learn to trust Him? Depend on Him?

The only way He is going to make me just like Him is the moment He brings me Home for good.

This next week might go painfully slow with Fred, but I’m confident that if we continue to slowly introduce him into normal life,  he will grow and become the little boy that Jesus wants him to be.

I’m also sure that Jesus is slowly introducing me into more of who He is so I can grow and become the daughter that He needs me to be.....

……even if one of my qualities is annoying little Romanian babies with the same obnoxious lullaby over and over again.

"Being confident of this, he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6

God, thank You for all that You are. Thank You for taking Your time with us, because You know exactly what we can handle at the time we need it. Father, continue to guide our lives. Keep Your safe arms around us in this scary world.