The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, a learning curve, a journey and a million other cliches that try – and fail to capture the reality. Nappies, stitches and sleepless nights, I was prepared for. What I hadn’t anticipated was the heart surgery. The fierce and painful emotion that courses, hot, through every vein. Love, I suppose. But not like I love my cats or I love books or I love mashed potatoes. Something else – primitive and frightening. I’d die for her. For my daughter. She’s mine. Yet, she’s not mine either – but a gift, on loan, already growing, already stretching away to a future I can’t control.
It frightens me, this love. It’s so much bigger than I am, than I ever expected. Wonderful and terrible and completely irresistible. Like the opposite of thirst – a fullness that cannot be contained. It demands to be given, shared, poured out. It leaks and seeps, hot and salty, from every pore. I’m on fire with it and when I look at her – when I see my daughter – I’m lost, all over again. Part of me longs for the safety of a bolted heart – but mostly I can’t breathe for loving her.
And as I pray, as I ask God to help me, help me to do this, I know I can’t. I can’t protect her. I can’t give her all the things she needs. I can’t be there, all of her life; I can’t keep her for myself – because she’s more than just mine. She belongs to Him; and as I brush her soft cheeks and watch while she sleeps, I wonder…when God looks at us, when He looks at me – is this what He sees? His children, precious beyond measure – made and then redeemed, by Him? Does He see us as I see my daughter – helpless, wriggling, hungry and needy and lost? And does His heart too, leap for joy at what He has made – whatever she does, wherever she hides. And when, tired and frustrated, she turns from Him, are His arms too, outstretched…but forever – cradling us, carrying us and catching us, even before we fall?
Thank you, Father. Thank you that you loved us First. And last. And forever.
This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. (1 John 4:10)
16 Comments
So lovely to hear from you!
And this – beautiful, raw – you express it all so perfectly.
“It frightens me, this love. It’s so much bigger than I am, than I ever expected. Wonderful and terrible and completely irresistible. Like the opposite of thirst – a fullness that cannot be contained. It demands to be given, shared, poured out. It leaks and seeps, hot and salty, from every pore. I’m on fire with it and when I look at her – when I see my daughter – I’m lost, all over again. Part of me longs for the safety of a bolted heart – but mostly I can’t breathe for loving her”
thanks Tanya -and congrats on your new book. I can’t wait to read it: (http://tanyamarlow.com/books-and-e-books/ for those who want a treat)
Ah, you’re most kind!
Time to read is a little more haphazard with a baby on the scene, I find… (And you have to be able to do it one handed, I found…)
Thinking of you.
And it doesn’t stop! Six months later I am still looking at my baby boy and feeling that way. It’s amazing, and mind melting!
x
So very happy for you. Life will never be the same again!
We were all praising God for her safe arrival, we were thrilled when we heard. You have captured the heart of every Jesus -loving mother x Thank you x
I fully understand the love you feel and hope all parents find it x
Congratulations! And though I am not a mother and didn’t open my body for any of my children, as a father I too feel those well written sentiments. We are very happy for all three of you!
Congratulations :-) You’re absolutely right about our children evoking a completely new and surprising brand of love we have never seen before. And at the birth of my first daughter 22 years ago I was also awed by the God’s fierce love for me from which our love as parents is the image. I think the passion for our kids doesn’t go away but it does give way to a more enduring “brooding love” – as the Spirit of God literally brooded over the waters in Genesis 1. And that, for good and bad, NEVER goes away. Congratulations again!
Fantastic – congratulations!
Lovely news, and so beautifully articulated. Congratulations :)
Yippee! I’m thrilled by your news, and so happy to see you back here – you’ve been missed :)
Congratulations on wee scrivener and your own new name: mum!
I love what you’ve written. This mother stuff is life altering in the extreme.
We brought home another tiny son in November and a love of soft warm cheeks is flowing inside our walls as well.
It doesn’t lessen or get old and mundane with more children, it’s always a miracle.
I have been sleeping with one eye open for nearly 3 months. I feel compelled to go back again and again for yet another peek, another kiss on his curly ear, or one more sniff of his stinky little neck.
Congratulations Caroline – and what a gorgeous image!
And it was all those raw and deep emotions that helped to draw me back to God thirty five years ago when my daughter was born. So much love. So much grace.
That’s wonderful Chris.