Saturday, May 28, 2016

My, My



Strolling through my favorite Labyrinth (Avondale) with the interns from CROSS Missions for leadership demo, I became distracted like I often do now. On the other side of the sacred space, I could hear my daughter cooing with a friend who had volunteered to hold her while I lead this walk. They were seated by a fountain and Noelle was entranced with the splashing water. My thoughts wandered from the physical and spiritual walk of the Labyrinth to a simple phrase, "that is my baby." 

This phrase stopped me in my tracks. It was only a few months ago that I was explaining to visitors that I felt like she was God's baby and I was her babysitter. There was just NO WAY this incredible little being came into this world because of anything I did. She was too amazing, too wonderful to be mine. She could only be God's miraculous creation. (It still seems right to think of her this way)

I stood there wondering when Noelle became MY child?  I started thinking about all the things and people that I call mine. My husband. My house. My car. My artwork. My garden. My family. My friends.  The list went on and on. Then I stopped on a phrase I have used all the time when I am referring to any of the youth I worked with during my time as a youth pastor- "My kids". I have youth who are graduating college this year who I still refer to as "my kids". 

When I literally say "my kids" my heart pangs and the faces of all my youth flash across my  mind.  I don't use the word "my" in these cases to claim anyone or anything. I am not trying to possess anyone. "My" connects directly to my heart. I love "my kids", all of them. 

I have invested time, energy, creativity, hopes and dreams into each of them because I love them. It is still a great joy for me to get to experience them growing into amazing adults. 

Isn't this how God must think of us? Can a creator ever create without putting a piece of themselves into their handiwork? I think that is impossible.God calls me his own. That possessive word lays claim over me, pointing to the one who made me and loves me. It is an arrow directing me always back to where I came from and where I am whole- the Source. 

As I call Noelle "my baby" more and more, I say it because I have fallen in love with her. I know that this love has come directly from the One who created it all, even the "my". 






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