The object of affection

My 18 month old daughter has entered a new phase that involves hugs and specifically wanting my care and affection. This is incredibly tender and sweet for me because Lil L has never been a child who would sleep in my arms and has been remarkably independent from the get go. It's also kind of shocking in its intensity.

Yesterday, we were in a new part of town in a new place while Grandma had a doctor's appointment. Lil L spent a good 10 minutes wanting to be near me while she sussed the place out. When she's upset about anything, a reprimand, a loud noise, being tired, she wants to be near me. She'll tenderly lay her head in my lap, and when I show up after an absence, I get an amazing smile and often out-stretched arms and a toddler run. At the moment, I am the clear object of her affections.

I, as an adult, have never been a kid person. So until I had a child, my understanding of children was limited to my hazy memories and TV. As I experience motherhood, I feel I've been given a new opportunity to engage little people, and this is helping me re-engage with Jesus. You know, the Jesus that said:

Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.
~The Gospel according to Luke, chapter 18

"The kingdom of God belongs to such as these." Lil L falls over a lot as she skitters around our tile living room. She can't help with the dishes or the laundry. She's our little agent of chaos. But she is unwavering in believing that mama is where it's at.

In the kingdom life, it is easy to want to think that we get kingdom merit badges for doing awesome stuff. But Jesus might be saying that the kingdom is for awkward incompetents who have a seemingly insane belief that Jesus and Jesus alone is where it's at.

The urgent long view

My current conundrum is that we don't know how many days on earth we get. I was remembering my friend Brian this morning. He has no more days; I have no more days with him. I still find that deeply saddening.

If I knew I had only 30 more days in my life, I would feel a deep sense of urgency to call some of my best friends and tell them, "I have 30 more days and beyond that my hope is in Jesus Christ, beyond that I believe I will experience beauty and majesty that we only get a taste of in this life, beyond that I will be in eternity with God. You too can experience hope, beauty, and majesty in this life and the next because of who Jesus is and what he has done."

But I don't know that. I may well have 30 + 30 years left in my life. And how sweet would be it be to have all those years with these friends and new friends? When I take the long view, I feel I mustn't force my hand, mustn't try and run ahead, mustn't try and rush things. Instead, I should live and enjoy each moment for what it is. Not rushing relationships to me means being a normal friend, not being a weird religious freak who is acquainted with someone. But that means that it might be year 8 in a relationship before someone says, "Will you pray for me and my family;" something that happened just last week. Year 8! In the urgent world, who has time for year 8? But in light of eternity, what is 8 years? Nothing.

In any event, I feel kind of stuck. So there it is, the problem of the urgent long view.