Deservedness

I judge. I do. But I also repent. I have to.

My 19 month old son and I went to a park the other day and though it was drizzly and there was no time to schedule a play-date with other friends, we were stir-crazy so off we went. There was one other family there that morning - both parents with two children about age 3 and 6 and a set of newborn twins. Mom was pushing the twins around in a stroller while dad aimlessly followed his older two around the play equipment.

I scrutinized their interactions.

Dad lit up a cigarette. In between drags, he'd half-heartedley push his daughter on the swing. His eldest son jumped from log to log exclaiming, "Dad! Look!" but dad's eyes drifting to his watch was the only reply. Mom sighed loudly as one of her babies wailed. "I knew we'd regret this," I heard her say.

Regret what? I wondered. The choice to let your kids play outside? Or even having so many kids in the first place?

As the morning went on and I'd been showing my babe how all the play equipment works, the older two kids started following me around. They started asking us silly questions and soon we were all laughing. The dad came over and barked at his kids to leave me alone. "They don't bother me," I replied, but he grabbed them by the arms and pulled them away. A feeling of superiority came over me. Surely, if I am ever so fortunate to be gifted with four children, I wouldn't be as exasperated as those parents. I mean, didn't they notice their kid's delight after just a few moments with an attentive stranger? As I watched them drag their kids to the car, I whispered, "They don't deserve all those kids."

Then, revelation.

Any superiority escaped me as I turned all scrutiny toward myself and my envy. I didn't realize how ashamed I was of my own struggles with being able to conceive, and how that had somehow translated into an issue of deservedness. My envy, a byproduct of my shame, had brought me to judge a set of parents who were likely just overwhelmed in that moment and coping in the best way they knew how. As my grace increased for them, I realized the grace also being extended to me by God, Who I believe loves me.

My heart can be ugly. And I'm glad I don't get what that ugliness deserves. Funny how I thought that my desire to have more children without the intervention of a reproductive endocrinologist, and my supposed greater capacity for patience, makes me more deserving to be a parent.

Truth is....their children are a gift. My son is a gift. All children yet to be born - despite the circumstances or choices of their parents - are gifts. No one deserves to have a child. So thanks to God for gifting us. Fertile or infertile, accidental pregnancies or doctor intervention required, it is God who lends us our children.

And through having a child, He allows me to decide daily - will I react or will I teach? Will I demand certain behaviors of my child or will I live in a way that's exemplary of an integral life? Will I manipulate him with guilt and shame or will I lead him with the big picture in mind? Will I shield him from consequences or will I go before him and reveal that their is joy despite difficulty and that hope comes after despair?

I will approach the hope for future children with gratitude, not deservedness.

Ok, I Write Online Now.

I have been hastened to blog due to myriad thoughts that flood my brain as I consider the implications of one posting their personal details, photographs, intricate thoughts and world views on the web. The cowardice of the Internet has certainly brought regret to a number of well-meaning individuals desiring a public platform for a soapbox or two. This all has kept me somewhat elusive when it comes to social networking and the like.(However, you can now follow me on Twitter).

So how did I, a semi-web conspiracy theorist, become a blogger? Quite simple really. I know momma blogs are a dime-a-dozen out there, but I do know that there is no woman out there who has been momma to my son. No one sees him and learns through him like I do - just as the momma blogs I love are intrinsic to their own babies and perspectives. So yes, the day my son was born is the same day a new potential momma blogger was born. His sweet entrance into the world has given me insight that I desperately want to articulate before my mind permanently defaults to: "Where are the color crayons?"

"Did I pack enough snacks?" and "I wonder if there are any good clearance sale online for organic baby clothing?"

I do love to write. If I had vocal or musical capabilities, I would strum a guitar endlessly hoping to achieve music that would communicate how I see things. But the art in me is limited, and the closest I get is a semi-skilled ability to put a few words and phrases together in an effort to identify meaning. And I'm grateful for the concept of a web-log which allows me to "publish" the art in me in such a fanciful way.

I have to admit...I have been composing blog posts in my head for well over a year now. There is just something in me that wants to proclaim in writing that my son has discovered the toilet on his own and actually used it for the first time the other day. Then I laugh wondering what friends without children will think about how I'm captivated with the fact that the potty world goes hand-in-hand with the parenting world. I suppose it began when I was pregnant and sneezed in the grocery store at about 35 weeks along. Surely I didn't want anyone in the market to notice the seeping liquid on my skirt, but something in me wanted to type out the story for the world to see. I suppose that was a sign that I should just start my blog and be done with it.

My blog will likely surround my goal for the last year or so  - to be present; to live in each minute. How I will appreciate these moments recorded in writing...especially when I find myself wasting time wishing for a different house and regretting decisions from my youth. So here goes...

Hello blogger-sphere. Is that the correct word? I'm still (and always) learning.