I’m naturally a “fastwalker“. I am on a mission to get where I am going. I rarely dawdle and stroll. When there is someone to get to, well, then baby, let’s get there. That was then, and this, my friends….is now…
Anne is learning to walk She has taken several steps on her own but usually prefers to hold onto my hand while toddling about. (Sidenote: Anyone else find baby steps hysterically funny? Lift the foot and then stomp it down, leg completely straight like there are no knees involved, wide stance…it’s quite amusing.) She likes to walk around outside especially. So whether we are walking to the market or to the playground or to the coffee shop, she prefers to get out of her stroller these days and walk. Which disturbs my pace.
We walk and I hold her hand. I start down the path like I’m on a straight line. Then we suddenly stop. Anne has spotted a leaf. STOP THE PRESSES! She drops my hand and scurries over to look at the leaf, petting it, lifting it – in effect with her “ooo’s” and “aahh’s” saying “Look Mummy!” – and generally mystified by such a wonderful creation. I haul her up and start walking over again. Walk, distract, drop, look, redirect, repeat.
“Look, Mummy! A dandelion!”
“Look, Mummy! A little kid!”
“Look, Mummy! A bit of grass!”
“Look, Mummy! A rock!”
“Look, Mummy! A cigarette butt!”
And a walk that normally takes less than 5 minutes turns into 25 minutes.
I realised that in motherhood I have been slowed down considerably.
Giving birth slowed me down physically. Suddenly this wasn’t a cold I could just “tough out”. I had to lie down, had to rest, had to take it easy, had to enjoy Anne on her terms. Then nursing slowed me down. In the midst of running around, Anne needed to eat. So we’d sit down and I’d nurse her in a quiet spot. She’d take her time and I’d be forced to just sit for a few minutes together and take a moment to connect, nourish and love her. Imagine that. The opportunities have continued. We’d be playing on the floor and she’d suddenly stop – mystified and amazed – arrested by the trees outside in the wind, watching the light and shadows move. And I’d think “When was the last time I watched the light move?” Then the bedtimes. I was used to going out late in the evening, always being busy with church stuff (“It’s the ministry! Of course it’s important!”) or even just running out for a cuppa coffee at 10 o’clock. Now the wee girl needs to be in bed at 7. So we’re home for the evenings, quieter.
Even our approach to ministry has changed…we felt almost guilty for not working in church more and doing more like we used to when we were married singles. When I shared that with our pastor, she was so kind and wise, telling us in effect “This is a season for family. Life is long and ministry to others will always be there. But ministry to your family is just for a few short years. Relax and enjoy this season.” I really took that to heart. I don’t need to be changing the world entirely this year. I can take a bit of time for my wee girl and myself and preparation and prayer, believing that all things work together for the purposes of God. Our big dreams of planting a church in a year and going going going going were put on pause by the Lord. And we realised we have much to learn and absorb and receive and give in this context. When we were calling out to God “What next? We thought we’d be doing MORE by now! We miss full-time ministry – we miss pastoring!” the answer we received from God? “Be diligent and wait.” Gee, thanks. But now I’ve come to embrace that as the calling of my life right now. Be diligent to what God has called us to right now – learning from our church, grad school for Brian, raising Anne, me working, doing life with our families and friends – and wait. God knows our next step and the perfect time.
I didn’t like what I was doing with Anne. I was missing opportunities to let her learn, absorb her world, learn to walk, learn to listen to her Mum. We stood on the sidewalk and I said “Enough” to myself. And I sat down on the path with her and we played in the rocks, her learning what they are and me teaching her not to eat them.
I think I’m learning to switch off my overachieving freak tendencies and walk a bit more slowly, holding my daughter’s hand. Looking at things I haven’t seen in years. Seeing beauty and newness through her eyes. Learning to enjoy the moment. See God in the process and the journey rather than just the destination. I thought I had learned this lesson years ago when we first entered pastoring. But I’m learning it again. And I’m sure I’ll learn it again later.
In a way, I feel like maybe I’m like Anne to God’s Mummy. He’s got my hand and has a destination in mind. But I keep getting sidetracked by sometimes good things and sometimes bad things. He lets me learn and then we continue together.
