What surprises me most these days is how spiritually weak I feel when I should feel spiritually strong. I feel weak despite attending a sound church that meets all the criteria of a "good church." I hear God's law and gospel every Sunday. I am given opportunity to confess my sins and receive God's forgiveness. I hear expository, not topical, sermons. The pastor does an incredible job of leaving himself out of the sermon and leaving Christ in. I get to sing the Psalms. I am offered the body and blood of Christ every week. I should feel full and satisfied, the way I feel after a scrumptious meal at a steak house. And yet, I feel spiritually malnourished. Why is this?

Right now, life is serious. And heavy. I am at that age when I am sandwiched between growing children and aging parents. I feel a new weight of responsibility to provide for both. I don't know how to, and I'm not sure I can. I'm afraid of failing--emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I am secretly afraid of not being able to handle my own life. I am afraid that God is going to allow some tragedy into my life that will kill me.

All of a sudden I understand why Christians flock to churches where the sermons are upbeat, positive, light, and practical. I have criticized these churches for promoting self-centered faith rather than Christ-centered faith, and for failing to preach the biblical gospel. I always thought that people chose to attend these kinds of churches because they didn't take their lives seriously, nor their problems, sins, and ultimate destiny. But now I'm beginning to think that they prefer "Christianity lite" for exactly the opposite reason: they take their lives, problems, sins, and ultimate destiny too seriously. So going to church is like going to the movies, a place to escape reality. When you spend Monday through Saturday dealing with your problems, handling them, trying to survive them, the last thing you need on Sunday is to hear that you have more problems than you know of, more sins than you can atone for, and that you owe God more than you can ever repay. Even if these are true--which they are--you don't want to hear it. What you need to hear is much more simple: God is with you, God loves you, God won't give you more than you can handle. Yes, cliches. For once, I want to hear them.

Happy Halloween!

Bryce fell off the couch on Saturday. Yup. It was bound to happen. I’ve caught him on the edge before, but this time I was too late. He usually sits still and chews on a toy while watching Super Why (his favorite cartoon); I don’t know what happened this time. It was probably my fault for showing him a repeat episode. I feel terrible about it, especially because he cried for several minutes after I picked him up. But it was an accident. Accidents happen. How many more times will he fall, bump his head, bruise his body, and hurt himself in his childhood? LOTS. Anyway, mental note to self: Be more careful. Especially when I let Bryce sit on the kitchen island. Yeah, I should probably stop that.

Bryce discovered junk food this week—Cheerios and Graduates Puffs. He is loving life right now. I get so much pleasure from watching him pick up these snacks with his fingers and put them into his mouth. Most of them make it in. It is just the most amazing thing, to see my baby do something new on his own. Isn’t it mind-blowing that every little thing we do is learned?

I saw a children’s book at Target the other day that inspired me. It was called Someday. National Bestseller. It was just a compilation of statements beginning with “Someday…” that took you through a person’s life—happy moments and sad moments and sentimental moments. I want to write a book for Bryce called “Mommy remembers…” or “I love it when…” Something more personal, and not so general.

I love it when… you smile at me after a good nap.

I love it when… you chew contentedly on a toy while I walk you in the stroller.

I love it when… you squeal with glee when I spin you around and around like a helicopter.

I love it when… you open your mouth for a spoonful of food.

I love it when… you giggle at Jie Jie Caitie’s attempts to make you laugh (“Ha Choo!”).

I love it when… you hug your baby blanket while you nap.

I love it when… you are happy playing by yourself for several minutes.

I love it when… your eyes light up at the sight of Cheerios.

I love it when… you sit with me to watch TV.

I love it when… you open the flaps in your favorite book, Dear Zoo.

I love it when… you close your eyes and hold out your arms when I douse your head with bath water.

I love it when… I smile at you and… you smile back.

Bryce is more than 7 months old now, and I can finally let him cry without feeling guilty. I know he is old enough to handle it, which is what I was waiting for all this time. More importantly, I'm old enough to handle it! Right now I'm training him to fall asleep without a pacifier, and it's a very big deal. The books say it takes 3-10 days for babies to learn how to self-soothe themselves to sleep. Today is Day 3.

Only mothers understand how physically- and emotionally-consuming babies are. I never admired nor desired to be a woman who didn't have an identity apart from her children. Now I understand how easy and natural it is to lose yourself in the single role of parent. I understand how difficult and unnatural it feels to pull yourself away, to pick up where you left off on pre-pregnancy projects, to sit down and read a book, to call a non-mom and remember how life used to be.

Between working full time and raising a baby, I don't have much energy to do a lot of the things I love (besides being Bryce's mommy)--reading, writing, visiting friends, investing in college students... There is no doubt in my mind that right now, in this particular season, this particular year, the most important vocation of mine is to be a fully focused, fully fulfilled mother. Motherhood is fulfilling in ways that nothing else is. I know what I'm experiencing is normal. Still, I'm afraid of never getting to do enough of the things I love again, even with the support of a sympathetic husband.

At the risk of sounding over-dramatic, I am afraid of losing myself.