Be Still

I let writing in February and March completely get away from me, so I must sit down now and attempt to regain momentum.

My Aria is nearly 7 months and beginning to crawl! It seems that every single new day brings with it a new milestone, followed by a lesson learned as parents. I am about to uncap a serious amount of parental cheese and apply liberally, so if you are not into that sort of thing, you have been warned.

Stephen and I are the definition of smitten.
I never knew how much joy a tiny person could bring to my heart, but I speak for both of us when I say that we feel there was never another child more adored than our girl.

Our days these past few months have evolved into the following highlights:
Wake up around 7:30 am, and fight over who gets to go get Aria out of her crib.

• Watching her wake up on the monitor, roll onto her tummy and bob her head up and down so she can see over the side of the crib and look for us, her face and little gleeful chuckles when she registers us walking towards her...it is very difficult not to have a great day after that. The way she looks at Stephen and I can absolutely bring us to our knees. You would think that we surely placed the stars in their constellations. I have so much pride in being her Mommy, yet cannot help but ponder how blissfully ignorant of how much of a dork I am she is. That God would see fit to bestow such a gift on me is beyond my comprehension. Those chuckles though, and the embarrassing lengths one will go to make them repeat. (Stephen and I have seen new faces on each other we never knew existed!) 

Spend a solid 5-10 minutes playing peek-a-boo with her smiling face before taking her out of the crib.

Applaud whatever new skill she has acquired each day.

• Most recently it has been sitting on her own and crawling backwards on wooden floors. I also started introducing some new foods. My baby food maker is one of my favorite purchase decisions for her so far. I have been getting so much enjoyment out of planning out her meals with our grocery lists and seeing how she takes to new fruits and veggies. I cannot remember what it is like to taste an apple for the first time but it is apparently rapturous. So far, the only thing she has hated is avocado. And by hated I mean projectile vomited across the room. Oh well, we will try again some other time. Other than that she's a great eater across the board.

Embrace the dawning of communication with the perfected raspberry back and forth.

The list goes on.

Tiny moments that seem mundane, silly, or insignificant have become moments that I find worthy of sharing with whoever will listen. "Today, she stopped nursing and smiled at me when I looked away from her. She wanted me looking at her while she nursed and if I looked away she would stop again!" "Today, she figured out how to put her pacifier back in on her own!" "Today, she took a nap without a swaddle!" "Today she was fascinated with the baby that was looking at her in the mirror." "Today, Today, Today...."  Do I sound nuts? Yes. This past Sunday I talked to another mom at church for ten minutes about poop before realizing that a year ago I would not have even dreamed I could be so cavalier and interested in baby bowel movements. But, really, why worry about what people think during times like these?

I really loathe this comment from older parents. "Oh, you better not blink. Before you know it she will be your age and you'll wonder what happened." What a cruel way to make me either 1) Feel incredibly sad after every stage is over rather than excited for the new one, or 2) Be constantly hypersensitive and worrisome that I am missing something while they are happening. I feel I am very aware of the precious time that I have and am taking my time as much as I possibly can to enjoy her little years. Let me do that!

This journey we are on together with our baby is exciting and rewarding all the time.

I think the profundity of it all lies in the idea that everything is new to her and we have the honor of presenting the world how she will forever build on it. I want her childhood to feel like magic. Because, it is magic. Learning and understanding should never convince anyone that God hasn't created a world full of the most wonderful and intriguing mystery. Colors, seasons, weather, nature, stories, music, etc. You can explain every minute nuance of how each of these things work, but at its base the existence of such things should still astonish you. No one can recall the first time they saw the sun, or used their hands to touch something, or yelled loud enough to hear their own voice, but imagine if you could remember that experience. How would it change the way you look at things if you could remember what it was like before they existed for you?

This element of infancy is an intense and easily forgotten responsibility for parents. Maybe that comment that I hate is a product of that sometimes. I need to constantly remind myself to enjoy the process and let her learn things slowly, try and rekindle the curiosity and wonder that has eluded me as I have "grown up" and rendered these things boring. The reflected light of pool water on the wall or a shadow on the carpet is commonplace to us but to a 6 month old it is totally mind blowing. Aria may not be able to speak yet but it is incredible watching her take everything in, exploring with her hands and lingering with her eyes. I do not want to ruin any of it for her. Parenthood has taught me so much about patience and taking the time to be still.

In my Ancient and Medieval Literature class we study Plato's Symposium every year. For those unfamiliar, Symposium (late 300s BC) is a "recounting" of a banquet during which Socrates and numerous other celebrated minds sat in a circle and spoke in turn praising Love and its influence on the life of mortals and their beloved. My favorite discussion we have as a class pertains to the love of beauty and finding truth in it. One point in this discussion we compare our ideal beautiful landscape scenes. For some students that scene is a beach, for others it is the woods, or a snowcapped mountain. Whatever the scene, we come to the agreement that the common denominator for all of us is how that perfect place makes us feel. Always, our ideal of beauty brings us to a place of calm and serenity, stillness as well as safety.

I have been pondering this in my quiet times of stillness with Aria, and how much it has meant to me to cherish these times, how beautiful the world seems now that she is in it, and also how fearful I have become of the things in this world that are not so beautiful. The line from Psalm 46 popped into my head: "Be still and know that I am God." I looked up this verse and read the passage surrounding it.

Psalm 46:7-11

The Lord Almighty is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Come and see what the Lord has done,

    the desolations he has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease

    to the ends of the earth.

He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

    he burns the shields with fire.

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;

    I will be exalted among the nations,

    I will be exalted in the earth.”

The Lord Almighty is with us;

    the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Symposium and motherhood have shed a new light on this passage for me. The terrors of bringing a tiny human into a world full of evil can leave a mother completely insane with worry all the time. I have spoken in other posts about maternal fear of making right decisions and overwhelming need to protect. It was not until I stepped away from my fear and doubt, and began to think on more wonderful things, as we are commanded to do, that I realized how little time I spend remembering that God is also a parent looking out for me as well as my baby. This may seem so obvious, but just as we dismiss the simple things that enamored us as a child, we dismiss the depth of simple ideas much of the time.

Being created in God's image and Christ's taking the form of a man are not simple ideas when you look at who we are and each independent quality we have that reflect our creator. Our heavenly father's love for us and his boundless fortress of protection far surpass the fierceness of my love and ability to protect Aria, willing to die for her as I may be. Why do I not take enough time in those moments of fear to rest in that beauty and be still? Something I have been thinking of lately and trying to work on. 

Those peaceful moments looking at my daughter and trying, but failing, to take in her gentle sweetness, her beauty, and the joy every moment with her brings me I cannot help but find a new love for my God and thankfulness for this work he has given Stephen and I. In glimpses, I draw nearer to knowledge of what it is to be still and know that He is.