He comes to find me in the dark. Eyes squinted against my bedside lamp, he whispers, “Mama. Mama I gotta be by you.”
Bad dreams and hot summer nights drive him out of his bed, down the hallway and into mine. And I, I who crave space like oxygen at the end of some days, open my arms to him. Because that’s what parents do.
We make room inside ourselves for our children.
It comforts me to know that the Christ himself knows how I feel. Weary after long days of being surrounded by others, of being tugged from every side, of being followed and bothered for food, for touch, for recognition, he withdrew.
After He had sent the crowds away, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray; and when it was evening, He was there alone. Matthew 14:23.
The need to be alone is a powerful one. A pull at the core of who we are and perhaps a reminder that only when we are alone are we able to hear clearly from the Spirit that resides in our hearts. Time alone, as every parent knows, is sacred ground. And when it’s in my grasp, I usually feel it trickle too fast through my fingers and I panic that it will be gone before I have figured out how best to spend it.
A good book, a hot bath, a meal eaten in peace. Caramel frappacinos enjoyed while reading a magazine. A slow walk down the grocery aisle. Music, loud music in the laundry room. I spend my alone time in the ordinary, every day ways familiar to parents. But even the most mundane tasks, when done alone, take on a special quality. There is reverence in the ordinary when I get to savor it with only my thoughts and the Spirit that loves me for company.
It is rarely grand. But it is always necessary.
Small, deliberate footsteps, however, ultimately find me out in the end. And in the midnight hour I reach out to my son and feel his long limbs, that just an afternoon before were full of fight and stubborn refusal to comply, fold into me. He is flesh of my flesh and bone of my bones.
Small wonder that Jesus-brother-human-maker could never turn away anyone who interrupted him.
The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.
Mark 6:30-33.
He understands.
He understands the feeling of claustrophobia that can set in after a long day at the center of many small, grabbing hands. And he shows me what compassion looks like in the very midst of that hungry need for space.
So I reach out and roll Micah into the sheet next to me. Because he wants to be with me. Just like I want to want to be with Jesus. And we rest in one another.
{Edited from the archives}
Want to keep up with this here blog? Sign up to get my posts emailed to your doorstep right here Or delivered to your reader of choice. Or just like us on Facebook.
I so KNOW this feeling of claustrophobia. If only I could summon the compassion and patience more in the waking hours than in the nighttimes ones. That’s the strength I have to lean on Him for-to help me persevere when I feel as if I have not an ounce of patience left and can only think of myself. I think of the sacrifice of Christ who begged, “Take this cup from me,” and even when it was not taken, He submitted to the will of the Father and thought not of His own suffering, but of saving you and me.
This post went straight to my heart, and today I will carry it with me!
Oh, I dearly love finding these lovely pieces from the archives – from before I ever heard of this blog. It helps to fill in some blanks here and there. Thank you for this, and for every other wonderful bit of writing that you post in this place. I thank God for you. And those 5 minute Friday wonders?? The few folks who read me regularly also regularly tell me how much they love those posts. You do us struggling stragglers out here a real honor by inviting us into this space. So – thanks, again.
Oh how this brought me to Him in the *whirl and twirl* of my living. Such worship, Lisa-Jo. Such beauty in this truth-telling.
A beautiful post! I crave space and time alone, too. Thank you for reminding how Jesus did as well and how he also responded with compassion.
What a beautiful piece! I love the image of rolling into the arms of Jesus.
this piece of peace speaks so loud to me this morning.
oh, what joy and love is found in His arms of perfect rest.
these closed in spaces melt away until we are lost in the expanse of His goodness.
My children often end up at my bedside and I welcome them in as well, yet the feeling of not being able to move or breathe finds me. I long for my “alone time”, my time with the Lord, without a care in the world. I love that He constantly is calling me to come and be with Him.
Beautiful post, Lisa! I have often compared the way I feel with the kids tugging on me to the way Jesus felt when the woman reached out and touched the hem of his robe- sometimes I can just feel the power leaving me. But as my kids get older and they reach for me less and less often I sometimes miss it. Be blessed, J.
“He understands the feeling of claustrophobia that can set in after a long day at the center of many small, grabbing hands. And he shows me what compassion looks like in the very midst of that hungry need for space.”
Oh, my weary soul, that feels like a month of Hawaiian vacations would just scratch the surface on rejuvenating me. But he understands. And that, in itself, brings comfort. Lord, help me to find that compassion.
Thank you for this. I can’t tell you how much I needed these words today.
I love, love, love this picture of resting in Jesus! He wants to be with me as much as I want to be with Him. So beautiful!
Ahh, yes – He shows me what compassion looks like! Such sweet rest we find in Him.
my heart needed to hear these words today, thank you!!!
I panic too. I worry that I won’t have spent the time right, and that I won’t feel relaxed when it’s over. Or that I’ll remember something that I’ve really been wanting to do, only after the time is over. I never know how I should spend this time now.
I loved how you responded like Jesus with compassion for your son… love lived out as you took him into your arms. Beautiful!
This was a wonderful post. I, too, have a small son who comes to me at night, sometimes fairly often, and I can never turn him away. He is my youngest and is starting kindergarten tomorrow so I know that our time together will change soon and I will crave the small hands grabbing for me.
thank you for saying just what i, and so many others, needed to hear today! God bless you!!!
Oh thank you, thank you for this. I NEEDED to hear this.
Thank you for this post, for it has blessed me. I’m a mom of a sweet sweet 11wk old boy whose natural baby antics (evening fussiness, anyone?) and a large snow storm (cabin fever, anyone?) caused my fuse to be a bit shorter last night. It’s a new day and I feel encouraged. Thank you!