Not Needing to Know It All

Magic 8-Ball 

By Katharine Burley

I was one of those kids in school, waving her hand in the air to be called on because then everyone would know that I knew the answer. I wanted others to know that I was smart.

Then I became a mama.

These days, I find myself wishing no one expected me to know anything - that the name change from "Katie" to "Mama" didn't bring with it the assumption that I know how to be a parent.

Because a lot of the time I don't know why my baby’s crying. I don't know where that rash came from. I don't know what's making her wake up in the middle of the night. I don't know how to convince my 2-year-old that it's okay to share toys (or AIR) with other kids. I just don't know.

"He knows me, my heart,

my life, faith and thoughts." 

I make educated guesses. I employ a trial-and-error strategy. I go by instinct. I ask questions.

Most of the time I'm feeling around in the dark, praying I don't screw anything up too badly; that my kids can rebound from whatever mistake I’m making; that good intentions and love can overcome my parental infractions.

While I long to shed the expectation that Mama Knows All, I take heart that I have a Father who does. He knows me, my heart, my life, faith and thoughts. He knows my husband and daughters, my friends and family.

So I might not wave my hand around anymore, hoping to be called on for an answer. I know that nothing I can do will change His answers.

Dear God, help me to realize I don't need to know everything when I know the one who knows everything I need.

from my MOPS email, June 7, 2010

The Beauty of Waiting

Lately I've become keenly aware of how desperately Connor needs to learn the skill of waiting.  Unlike his older sister when she was his age, he will not sit quietly until the banana makes its ten second long trip to his highchair tray.  He finds it his responsibility to let out all manner of shrieking to alert everyone in a half mile radius that he is hungry and he has yet to have access to a remedy for it as of this instant.

He's even been taught how to sign "wait," and will gladly sign it while screaming.  But as far as he's concerned any food he sees (even in picture or video form) needs to translate to something yummy in his mouth instantaneously.  Isn't that wonderful!

It is during these times of pleading with Connor that my mind clearly grasps how much simpler the whole situation could be if he would just wait.  Just pause, for a moment, and trust that food is being prepared and will be consumed by him shortly.  Believe, that although he doesn't understand why the extra time is necessary or what it could possibly be needed for, his best interests are at heart and he doesn't need to be on top of it.  That the screaming isn't causing food to come any faster, but just making everyone, including him, miserable in the meantime...

And then it hits me.

This is me we're talking about.  How many times do I "scream" to God about something he's promised to fulfill?  When I don't see the end or how exactly it will work out and I effectively throw a tantrum in my highchair just to be sure that he doesn't forget about me?

It actually is a little ridiculous how parallel these two are.

• Connor is shortsighted - I am shortsighted
• Connor wants it now - I want it now
• Connor doesn't understand - I don't understand
• Connor doesn't quietly trust - I don't quietly trust
• Connor gets himself so worked up that he doesn't want the food when it's finally there - I get myself so worked up that I don't recognize the answered prayers when they're finally there
• Connor would settle for the gross food on the floor if I let him - I would settle for what seems to me as "good enough" answers even though if I would just hold out for God's timing it would be so much better
• Connor will eat his own boogers - 

Well, that last one is where the similarities end. (spiritual boogers? maybe they do exist) :)

Sigh.  How encouraging that I'm on par with my 16 month old's learning curve.

 "Know that the LORD is God.
       It is he who made us, and we are his;
       we are his people, the sheep of his pasture."  
- Ps 100:3


God has not forgot about me.